Forced Connection: The 100th Hunger Games
by jul312
Summary: SYOT CLOSED "For the fourth quarter quell and 100th anniversary, as a reminder that the twelve districts must depend on each other and the Capitol in order to survive, each tribute will be randomly assigned a partner and their lives will be linked in the arena." A continuation of my story "A Victor's Ally- The 99th Hunger Games"
1. Prologue - Juliet Breyer

**A/N: Welcome to my first SYOT! This is going to be sort of a sequel to my story "A Victor's Ally", which is the story of Juliet, the Victor of the 99th Hunger Games.**

 **If you're interested in submitting, check out my profile! If you have any questions, shoot me a PM and I'd be happy to answer them :)**

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Chapter One: Prologue

 **Juliet Breyer, 18, District 7, Victor of the 99** **th** **Hunger Games**

I returned to my apartment in the Capitol, looking disheveled and out of place in the lavish interior. The clock read 8:43 PM. At exactly nine o'clock, the Quarter Quell announcement would be broadcasted all over Panem. I had seventeen minutes to scrub every trace disgusting Capitol men off of my skin.

The shower was pure white. I turned up the faucet as high as it could go, trying to distract myself with the pain from the scalding water. Blood from various cuts on my body ran down my legs and onto the floor of the shower. The dark red was diluted in the water and I watched, mesmerized, as the pink liquid circled the drain until the water was clear again.

Snapping out of my daze, I began to scrub at my body roughly. The hot water combined with the scratchy washcloth left my skin red and stinging, but I still felt filthy.

It was an eternity until I gave up. When I turned off the water, I could hear the sound of the telephone ringing faintly from the living room. I sighed, wrapping myself in a fluffy towel and turning to look in the mirror. It was fogged up, but I could make out the blurry image of my red, sore skin.

I threw on a pair of sweatpants and a baggy shirt, thankful that there was something in my closet besides tight dresses and skirts. The phone had stopped ringing a couple minutes ago, but by the time I exited my bedroom it picked up again.

"Hello?" I held the large telephone to my ear, combing back my soaking wet hair with my fingers.

"Juliet? Why weren't you answering before? Did you see the Quell announcement?" The familiar voice of my fellow victor was slightly warped through the speaker. Luke was my mentor during the games, and my best friend before that. I was sure that he was wondering what I was doing in the Capitol, but he knew better than to ask. My gaze drifted up to the clock on the wall. It was 9:12.

"I was…out." I answered absentmindedly, grabbing the remote and settling down on the couch.

"Turn on your tele. I'm sure they'll have reruns on the main channel." He paused. I tried to determine whether the quell twist was good or bad through the tone of his voice, but he sounded neither happy or upset. "And Jules, when are you coming home?"

"I don't know." I answered truthfully. The President had called me to the Capitol a few weeks after I returned home from my Victory Tour, and I had been here since, doing everything he asked so that no harm would come to my family. I though back to the deal I made with him the night I was celebrating my victory. I promised to do everything he wanted me to if he just left Luke alone and stopped selling him to the Capitolites. Since Luke was back and District Seven and not in the Capitol with me, I could only hope that the President had kept his promise.

"Alright, well, you can call me later. I'll be up." There was a click as the line went dead. I turned my attention toward the television, skipping through channels until I came across a recap of the announcement.

The camera followed President Thorn as he walked swiftly across that stage, holding a card in his hands. His cruel eyes glinted in the light and I shivered involuntarily, wondering how one man could be so terrible.

He held the card out and cleared his throat. "For the fourth quarter quell and 100th anniversary, as a reminder that the twelve districts must depend on each other and the Capitol in order to survive, each tribute will be randomly assigned a partner and their lives will be linked in the arena."

I bit my nails, and odd feeling of hope blooming in my chest. This would be my first year as a mentor. The quell would be terrible, no doubt, but there was a chance. A possibility that I could bring home not one, but _two_ tributes. Of course, there were many negatives to the twist and I'm sure that the President had tricks up his sleeve, but I felt a fierce determination to do everything in my power to keep my tribute safe. I reached toward the phone, dialing the number I knew so well by heart.


	2. Reapings Pt 1 - Julian Amaryliss

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed so far! I wasn't expecting to get as many responses as quickly as I did. With that being said, I still have three more spots that need to be filled ASAP, so if you know anyone who would be interested in submitting a tribute make sure to send them my way!**

 **How this is going to work: I'm not going to do a reaping for every tribute, but each tribute will definitely get two full chapters before the games begin. Plus, with the partner twist, your tribute will be getting featured often!**

 **I hope you guys enjoy the first Reaping. If there's anything you think I should change about the way I'm doing my SYOT, feel free to let me know! This is my first one, so constructive criticism is appreciated.**

 **Special thanks to david12341 for Julian! I hope I did this little troublemaker justice.**

Julian Amaryliss, 14, District 9

"Run!" He shouted to his friends, ducking out of sight beneath the window and taking off into a sprint. Ellie and Jake followed behind him, laughing too hard to keep up. His small frame made him more agile than his friends, and he quickly pulled ahead of them.

His other friend, Marek, swung open his front door. "Julian!" He roared, angrily shouting at their retreating figures, his wild hair now a bright pink color.

They turned the corner, blocking Marek from view. Julian slowed down, leaning against the side of his house to catch his breath. Ellie and Jake stopped beside him, collapsing into a fit of giggles.

"You should have… seen… his face!" Jake stuttered, attempting to calm his laughter but failing miserably. "That was your best idea yet, Ellie."

She glowed at the compliment, a mischievous glint in her eye. "We wouldn't have been able to pull it off without Julian," Ellie turned toward her friend, looking unusually shy as she grinned at him with admiration. "How did you even get into his house?"

Julian shrugged, acting as if it was no big deal. "I just knocked on the door. His mom let me in. Didn't even notice the bottle of dye in my hand." He brushed some dirt off his jeans that he had obtained when crouching outside of Marek's window. Julian had simply added the pink dye into Marek's shampoo bottle, and the three of them watched outside his window for him to get out of the shower. Marek's face was priceless, and it made the usual tension in air on reaping day a little more bearable.

Ellie checked her watch and her gleeful expression dimmed. "I better get going. My parents will kill me if I don't look nice for the reaping." She gave Julian a small smile before darting off in the direction of her house. Julian frowned, knowing his mom would be pissed when he returned his house dirty and already causing trouble at nine in the morning.

He parted ways with Jake and returned in the direction he came, taking off into a jog as he passed Marek's house. Julian slipped silently through his back door, a grin breaking out on his face as the usual rush of adrenaline hit him when he successfully avoided getting into trouble. The feeling was short lived, however, when he turned the corner and came face to face with his mother. Her arms were crossed and she attempted to look angry, but Julian knew he could talk his way out of this one.

"Where were you?" She questioned him sternly. Julian widened his blueish-green eyes, knowing his mom couldn't resist his innocent look.

"Just hanging out with Jake and Ellie. No big deal." She sighed, dropping her hands at her side. Normally she would scold him, but reaping day seemed to suck the energy out of everyone besides Julian and his friends.

"You only have an hour to get dressed and head down to the reaping. Your father and I have a little bit of work to do before, but we'll be there in time." She patted his light brown with a fond look in her eyes. Julian nodded and hurried to his room before she changed her mind and decided to question him further.

He changed into his dark trousers and button up shirt, checking the mirror to see if he looked alright. When he was a little younger, he hated being the shortest or the smallest out of all his friends, but now he was very happy with who he was. At only 5'1'', he was much more flexible and agile than Jake, Marek, or even Ellie. He was thin, but in the past year he had started developing muscle from his constant antics.

Julian grinned, remembering some of the best dares he had completed. Just last week, Ellie had dared him to steal a giant bag of candy from their favorite shop. He got away with it, only to return everything he took. The shopkeeper was furious, but Julian and his friends were his favorite customers so he only got off with a slap on the wrist and a lecture from his parents. His light eyes flickered to the gold coin on his dresser which Ellie had grudgingly given him when he completed the dare successfully.

The faint knocking on his front door drew him out of his memories. He took the stairs two at a time, landing nimbly on the floor. When he passed the kitchen, he spotted his parents together at the table, hunched over some sort of financial plan for their business. Calling a quick goodbye, he opened his front door and stepped out into the bright sun.

His friends stood before him, Ellie and Jake with smug smiles on their faces, dragging a miserable looking Marek behind them. His newly dyed hair stuck up almost comically, and Julian bite back a laugh.

"Sorry we're late, it took us a while to convince Marek to leave his house. He seemed to think receiving the death penalty for missing the reaping was a better option than showing off his new hairdo." Ellie smirked, looking up toward Marek's hair. She was the shortest of the four, a fact that Julian was thankful for. Jake and Marek were the tallest, but Marek was so skinny and lanky that he seemed even taller.

"I think it looks good, Marek. We'll be able to spot you from a mile away." Julian kept his face neutral, earning a scowl from his friend.

"I don't know why I'm still friends with you guys." He muttered grumpily, his crabby expression only making the situation more comical. Julian felt sort of bad for making Marek the target of his most recent dare, but the latter was constantly trying to keep them all out of trouble and put an end to their fun. He deserved it.

The mismatched group managed to get to the reaping at a reasonable time. They each held out their fingers to get pricked, Marek wincing slightly as the Official pricked him too deep because he was distracted by his hair.

Julian and Marek waved goodbye to the others as Jake broke off toward the fifteen-year-old section and Ellie headed toward the girls'. She gave Julian a hug, looking uncharacteristically somber as she promised to see them later.

They found a spot among the other fourteen-year-olds, both pretending not to notice the funny looks they were getting. Marek looked down at Julian with raised eyebrows and sighed. "You're really oblivious, aren't you?"

He frowned, feeling slightly insulted. "About what?"

"About the fact that Ellie has a massive crush on you?" Marek sounded slightly incredulous, as if he couldn't believe that Julian was so stupid. Julian opened his mouth to protest, to say that Ellie was just one of the guys, but District Nine's Escort had begun to talk.

The mandatory video played, causing Julian to zone out. He didn't think he had a huge chance of being picked as a tribute. His family was decently well off because of their business and he hadn't ever had to take out tesserae. That being said, Julian was at the top of his class and prided himself on his intelligence. It didn't take him long to calculate his chances, and although slim, there was always a possibility.

"Girls first!" Lara, the District Nine Escort, began her short walk over toward the two bowls placed on stage. A hush fell over the crowd as everyone seemed to collectively hold their breath. The noise of Lara's pink, sparkly heels seemed amplified as she strode across the stage. Julian's heart felt as if it were about to burst out of his chest. She reached into the bowl and closed her fingers over a small slip, single handedly deciding the fate of one unlucky girl.

Julian stood on his tiptoes, trying to find Ellie in the crowd, but he was two short to see over the heads of the boys in his age group. In his moment of distraction Lara must have read off the tribute's name, because he heard the shouts of someone he assumed was a sibling or parent. In a moment, the girl took the stage, and Julian let out a huge sigh of relief when he didn't recognize the girl. He felt guilty for feeling that way, but he was just glad it wasn't someone he knew.

Lara cleared her throat, her high voice preparing to read off the male tribute's name.

"Julian Amaryliss!" She announced dramatically, sending a shockwave through his body. Beside him, Marek flinched, turning to Julian with an alarmed look on his face.

 _Oh shit._ He stood up as straight as possible, forcing his usual charismatic smile on his face. While he appreciated a good dare and actually enjoyed putting himself in danger (much to his parents' dismay), he'd never exact been in a life or death situation before. If he was going to be sent to fight to his death, he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that the next time he returned to his district, he would be _alive_ and not in a casket.

Julian climbed up the steps and onto the stage. He wasn't sure how he would be coming off to the Capitol, but he hoped he looked casual and confident.

"Julian Amaryliss, fourteen years old." He announced into the microphone, flashing his most charming smile toward Lara. Looking out into the crowd, it was easy to spot Marek's bright pink head. His friend still had a shocked look on his face, as if he didn't believe it was really Julian up there on stage. He swept his gaze around, looking for Jake, Ellie, and his parents. He recognized Ellie's face next, tears streaming down her face. His stomach flipped and he felt sick.

Before he saw anyone else he was ushered off stage and into a small room where he would have to say his goodbyes.

His parents rushed in, looking teary-eyed. "My baby," His mom chocked out, pulling him close against her chest. Julian closed his eyes, letting himself lean against her for a few moments before pulling away.

"I'll be okay, mom. I'm smart, and I'm quite good at getting myself out of trouble." The fourteen-year-old attempted a reassuring smile, finding it kind of ironic that he was the one comforting his mother instead of the other way around.

His dad clapped a firm hand on his shoulder, giving him a supportive look. "We believe in you, son. Just play to your strengths. And don't give up hope." His words made him sound confident, but the tears in his eyes betrayed his true feelings. Julian gave them each one last hug, doing his best to remain stoic.

Jake, Ellie, and Marek entered next, each bearing completely different reactions. Ellie was usually the most wild and energetic out of all of them, but now she was furiously wiping away the tears on her face. Marek still looked like he was in shock, and Jake just looked furious.

Jake and Marek each gave him a hug, talking over each other to remind him of everything he was good at.

"You're extremely smart-"

"And you're a great climber!"

"-like the smartest guy we know-"

"And you've done gymnastics for a year now…"

Julian held up a hand, wanting to joke with his friends but not finding the energy.

"I'm going to miss you guys. But I promise I won't be gone long."

With that, Ellie burst into tears again, drawing her friend into a hug. "Do your worst, Julian." She gave him a peck on the cheek.

Their time was up. Jake and Marek continued to call out their support for Julian as the Peacekeepers dragged them out of the room. The heavy door slammed shut behind them, cutting off their voices and leaving Julian in complete silence.

For the first time in a while, he felt completely alone. A tear dripped down his cheek. This would be the last time he would allow himself a moment of weakness. Once he was on that train, he would have to be the fun-loving trickster that everyone expected him to be. He squeezed his eyes closed, blocking anymore tears that threatened to fall.


	3. Reapings Pt 2 - Daphne Yorkshire

**A/N: The SYOT is now closed! Thanks to everyone who submitted :) If anyone is interested in submitting a background character/another tribute, feel free! They won't get a point of view, but they will get featured! (For example, the Careers won't necessarily be dying in the bloodbath, so they'll be included in the Games)**

 **If you guys haven't already, please check out my first story, _A Victor's Ally - The 99th Hunger Games._ The character's from that AU will be making an appearance throughout the SYOT, so it might be helpful to have some background about them.**

 **Huge thanks to Lord Zagreus for Daphne! She's a very complex tribute so I'm hoping I was able to convey that. I knew exactly what I was going for in my head, but for some reason it wasn't coming out quite right on paper. If not, don't worry, we'll be seeing more of her later xD**

Daphne Aurora Yorkshire, 16, District 3

She grinned, fingers twitching as she watched the crowds pass by. Today was the reaping – the one time that every single person was required to leave their homes and walk toward the town square. It was a _gold mine_.

Daphne stood on the side of the street. Her deep brown eyes flickered over the unfamiliar faces, taking note on each person's clothing and attitude to find the perfect target. She spotted a well-dressed man in his late twenties, walking beside a younger girl. Ready to enact her plan, she kept her head down and took a step forward, but the state of his shoes made her pause.

They should have been a light brown color, but the shoes were so worn and stained that they looked almost black. Clearly the man wasn't wealthy, or he would have much nicer shoes. She decided to pick a new target, knowing the man wouldn't have much in his pocket anyway.

She wasn't Robin Hood or anything, stealing to the rich and giving to the poor. Quite the opposite, actually, considering she came from a wealthy family. No- she stole for the adventure and for the rush she got when she was able to get away with something.

The next person to catch her eye was a younger boy who looked her age, dressed in a material that only the richest in District Three could afford. She would know, it was the only material her father would wear. There was a slightly bulge in his front pocket where she guessed he was keeping his token. Without hesitation, she pushed her way through the crowd and barreled into him, knocking the boy sideways.

"Ouch!" He exclaimed, grabbing onto her arm and attempting to steady her. Daphne gripped his arm hard with one hand, pretending to steady herself, while digging her other into the front pocket of his trousers.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," She widened her eyes, putting on a surprised look. "I wasn't watching where I was going." Her fingers closed around something small and smooth. Quickly, she slid it out of his pocket and hid her closed palm behind her back.

The boy let go of her, grunting in response. Daphne muttered another quick apology, then turned her back toward him to continue down the street.

"Hey, wait a second!" Daphne's heart fluttered, but she turned around with a grimace. How could he have noticed? She thought she had been so careful…

"You're in my math class, aren't you?" He narrowed his eyes, searching her face. Internally, she kicked herself. Daphne knew the faces of every single person in every one of her classes, and somehow she had failed to recognize him. It was Henry Myers, one of the smarter and less obnoxious kids in her grade. She had made the worst mistake a petty thief could make – stealing from someone who knew who she was. If he realized his token had gone missing, it wouldn't be hard for him to pinpoint who took it.

Daphne shrugged, attempting to bat her eyelashes and put on a small smile. The boy nodded, as if confirming something.

"Yeah, you're that quiet girl who sits in the corner." Daphne let out a giggle, which was very much out of character for her, but she had to play the part of the innocent shy girl. Besides, he could have said much worse. Most of the kids her age thought of her as the weird loner who talked to herself, and they weren't shy about saying it to her face.

"Well, see you in school." He gave a half-hearted wave, seeming to realize that it was a one-sided conversation. Breathing a sigh of relief, Daphne expertly weaved through the crowd, trying to find her way back to her house before her parents left and locked the doors. When she lifted her head, she came face to face with a Peacekeeper. Her breath got caught in her throat and her shaking hands almost dropped the item in her fist. The Peacekeeper passed by her without a second glance, but Daphne still felt like she was on the verge of a panic attack.

Pulling herself into a side ally, she leaned against the dirty brick and closed her eyes. Taking deep breaths, she tried to calm herself down, but her memories were working against her. Playing on repeat in her mind was the scene of a Peacekeeper standing over a young boy, a whip in his hands. She remembered lots of blood and the screaming of those around her, begging the Peacekeeper to stop, but it was too late. The boy had no chance of surviving.

It was times like these that Daphne wished she had a _real_ mom, someone to shield her from the horrors of the government and the Capitol. But her mother couldn't care less about Daphne, so the sixteen-year-old was left to her own devices and her crippling fear of law enforcement. Ironic, considering she constantly placed herself in danger of becoming arrested.

She made it back to her house in time and entered through the massive front door, careful not to alert her parents of her presence. They sat in the kitchen, discussing who they thought would be chosen as tribute this year.

"Probably one of those dirty rascals from the poor side of the district. I doubt we'll have a winner this year." Her father was saying haughtily. Daphne rolled her eyes, silently creeping up the stairs so she didn't have to hear her mother's response. Which, knowing her, was probably much worse.

Daphne pulled out a box from under her bed, taking only a few moments to get through the series of locks she had added to it a while ago. The lid creaked open and revealed Daphne's stash of stolen goods- mostly jewelry and gold coins. She added her newest item to the collection, Henry's tiny gold pin that was probably gifted to him by his mother. Unfortunately, she didn't have time to marvel at her collection. The Reaping was in less than an hour.

Smoothing her hands across the expensive fabric, Daphne admired herself in the full-length mirror. She had grown a lot in the past year, now 5'7'', and she was surprised her mother had noticed that she needed a new dress. Her dark hair hung limp, nearly down to her waist, but she didn't have much time to worry about it.

"I'm headed to the reaping now, don't bother leaving the door unlocked- I won't be coming back to the house anyway." She spoke out loud as she walked out the door, but it was mostly to herself. Her parents didn't care enough to even listen to her when she spoke, so she only did to keep herself sane. Daphne refused to call her house 'home'. It wasn't a home. Just a huge, obnoxious house. The streets were the closest thing that came to a home for her.

She walked slowly toward the town square, wanting to put the Reaping off as long as possible. The crowd had started to thin out, signaling to Daphne that she would be late if she took any longer. Keeping her face neutral as the Peacekeeper pricked her finger was a difficult task, but she managed to get to the sixteen-year-old section without much of a fuss.

"It's fine. I'm okay." She muttered to herself, playing idly with the hem of her dress while she waited for the escort to take the stage. Most of those around her ignored her, chattering nervously to their friends, but a few gave her strange looks.

The District Three Escort took the stage, sporting a wild hairdo that normally would have put a grin on Daphne's face. He was new this year, and Daphne didn't even know his name. The Capitol anthem began to blast through the speakers, followed by the same video that played every year. Watching it made her heart pound, and she did her best to steady her breathing.

"I'll pick from the men first." The escort aggressively shoved his hand into the bowl, wiggling his hand around for a bit before finally grasping a name.

"Alvy Morganton!" He announced, peering at the crowd excitedly. A boy emerged from the fifteen-year-old section with a sour expression on his face. Daphne might have thought he was cute if it weren't for the nasty scowl on his face.

Daphne thought the Quell twist this year was unfair. If she were a tribute, she wouldn't be too pleased to have this boy as a partner. She supposed there could be worse, as someone could be partnered with a twelve-year-old who would get them killed.

"Daphne Aurora Yorkshire?" The escort called out to the audience, waiting for the girl to take her place on stage. Daphne's brain seemed to be working in slow motion, but once it caught up, she couldn't hold back the scream that left her throat. Tears flooded her vision and she shook her head, her mind running through all the possible situations in which this could be a mistake. There were none.

It wasn't until she saw the Peacekeepers coming her way that her feet were able to move. Anything to get away from them.

"I'm calm. I'm calm." She spoke to herself, but Daphne knew she sounded hysterical. She was barely able to announce her name and age onstage. It wasn't until she found herself in an empty room, alone, that she was able to calm down.

"Okay, Daphne," She cleared her throat, getting ready to lecture herself. "You're smart. You've got a brilliant mind. You have great memory and you'll be able to remember everything you observe about the tributes. You're great with words. The Capitol will love you. You'll make them believe you're their next victor. As long as you don't have an incompetent partner, there's a high chance that you'll make it out alive."

She wished she had an actual person there beside her, someone else comforting her rather than herself, but there was no one. No friends, no mother, no father. Her parents probably didn't even realize that their daughter had been reaped. Either that, or they were glad to have finally gotten rid of her. She knew her mother regretted having Daphne since the day she was born. Biting her lip, she hugged her knees to her chest and began to formulate a plan.


	4. Reapings Pt 3 - Isadora Juno

**A/N: Isadora was a lot of fun to write! I'm especially excited to write her interactions with the other tributes xD Thanks to PeonyPierce for this fiery Career! Let me know what you guys think of her!**

Isadora Juno, 17, District Two

 _Slice_.

Her sword entered cleanly through the dummy, in the exact spot where its heart would be if it were a tribute.

"Instant kill!" She shouted viciously, her eyes bright with a fire that made the younger trainees take a step a back.

The instructor, Cormac, took a step forward, an amused smile on his face. "I wouldn't exactly call that an instant kill." He motioned toward the rest of the dummy which was littered with carefully placed gashes and slices, indicating its long and drawn out death. "Nevertheless, thank you Isadora, for that ah, _creative_ display." He turned toward the small group of thirteen-year-olds that watched with wide eyes.

"I can do better. I can make it a better kill." She argued, positioning her sword toward the next dummy. Isadora grinned, lighting up her face with a wild and uncontrollable look. Cormac sighed and took a step forward. He placed his hand on the top of her sword, lowering it toward the ground carefully.

"As much as we'd love to see that, we all have a reaping to get to." With a snap of his fingers, the thirteen-year-olds were dismissed. Isadora contorted her face, visibly fighting the urge to argue with him. Cormac had been her trainer since she entered the Academy at the age of nine. He was also the _only_ person who would ever get the last word in a conversation with Isadora. And that was only because he had the power to decide whether or not she would enter the arena.

Thankfully, years of biting her tongue paid off, and she had been selected as District Two's volunteer for this year.

Passing up an argument had left Isadora thirsty for debate. Nodding goodbye to Cormac, she exited the training center searching desperately for conflict. Thankfully, she spotted her boyfriend Leroy waiting by the entrance. He wasn't enrolled in the Academy, much to her chagrin, but the two had met through school.

"I've been waiting for you for ages!" He exclaimed dramatically, looking toward Isadora as if she had done something horrible, like break up with him.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh please, I'm done exactly when I said I would be."

They bickered back and forth for the entire walk back to her house, successfully satisfying her urge to argue. The pair stood by her front door and continued their conversation, neither wanting to let the other win. Leroy and Isadora were admittedly the oddest couple in District Two. Isadora's flaming red hair and tall stature looked almost comical in contrast to Leroy, who was only 5'8''.

"You always choose the Games over me." He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.

"I do not!" She narrowed her eyes indignantly, but deep down she knew it was a true statement (not that she would ever admit it). "The Games are my passion. My future. If you can't handle that, then we're done."

Her boyfriend – ex-boyfriend – pursed his lips in disappointment. "Whatever. You were only with me for the sake of having someone to argue with, anyway."

She opened her mouth to object to that statement, but Leroy held up his hand. "Don't bother. The entire district knows it's true."

Leroy turned his back toward her and walked stiffly down the steps of her porch.

Isadora couldn't help herself and called smugly down to his retreating figure. "Some advice, before you go? You should really stop trying to get the last word in all the time. It's rather aggravating."

He turned, giving her a look of disbelief. Taking note of her flushed, accomplished face, he shook his head and muttered something to himself.

Feeling on cloud nine, the redhead flung open the door to her house and announced her presence.

"You're future Victor is here." She smirked, heart pounding as the hour of the reaping drew nearer. Her mother ran up to her, chattering excitedly about the Games.

"I only wish you wouldn't have the share the glory with someone else." Her mother stroked her cheek. Isadora simply shrugged, feeling conflicted over the Quell twist. A strong partner would only give her a greater chance of winning, which is something she would never be opposed to. But if she had a weak partner, it would be _so_ unfair to be the one doing all the work, only to have to share the victory in the end.

Her mother didn't care, though. She just wanted a child to brag about to her friends.

Isadora's father entered the room, looking as stoic and unflinching as he had three weeks ago, which was the last time she saw him.

"Dad!" She exclaimed, a grin on her face that for once wasn't inspired by either conflict or success.

He grunted in response, getting right down to business. "What have you accomplished in training since the last time I saw you?"

"Cormac and I went over every single weapon that has ever been in the games. So I would be ready for all possibilities." She jumped at the chance to impress her father, announcing proudly what she had been doing at the Academy.

"Have you watched all of the previous games like I told you to?"

Her smile fell a bit. "Well no, not all of them…" She trailed off, waiting for his reaction.

He stayed silent, a familiar look of disappointment in his eyes. Finally, he clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Well, maybe we'll finally have a Victor in the family."

Isadora nodded enthusiastically, desperate to prove herself. She didn't want to her father to be disappointed in her like he was with her brothers, who had both failed to even enter the Games, let alone volunteer. His disappointment in her eldest brother, Grey, was warranted, as he was never chosen by the trainers to be the designated volunteer. Bruce was supposed to volunteer for the Games six years ago, but backed out when he found out his girlfriend was pregnant. The girl has since abandoned Bruce, leaving him with Macey. Isadora can't find it in herself to share her father's disappointment in Bruce, mostly because of Macey. The six-year-old was adorable and loved to stir up trouble, reminding Isadora of herself.

"Run along and get changed. I bought you a beautiful dress, and I can't wait to see the look on my friends' faces when they see that _my_ daughter is going into the games." Her mother bounced excitedly, a dreamy look in her eye as she undoubtedly was imagining being a part of the most popular family in District Two.

Isadora took the stairs two at a time, desperate to get to the Reaping. Quickly changing and running a brush through her long, thick hair, she bounded back down the stairs and out the door.

"I'll see you before I get on the train!" She called to her family, halfway down the street before they had a chance to respond.

Crowds seem to part for her; Everyone knew who she was and what she would be doing today.

"Out of my way!" Isadora pushed her way to the front of the line, holding out a finger for the Official to prick. Most scuttled away from her quickly, not wanting to get into any argument or disagreement with a Career, especially not one with her reputation.

The girls in the seventeen-year-old section chattered among themselves, mostly useless gossip. Her friend Ophelia appeared at her side looking serious as usual.

"Are you excited?" The shorter blonde questioned her friend with an unreadable expression. Isadora could never tell if Ophelia was jealous that she was chosen to volunteer or if she didn't care at all. The two were training partners in the Academy. Ophelia's focused and analytical nature balanced out Isadora's aggression, imagination, and combativeness. She had also learned quickly that it was no use in arguing with the latter, which was definitely a plus in Isadora's book.

Isadora nodded emphatically, launching into a detailed explanation of her plan for the arena. Her friend listened intently, occasionally voiced a compliment or a critique.

The District One escort took the stage looking something akin to a pale, yellow marshmallow. Isadora squinted, closely analyzing Gretchen. Their escort looked completely different from last time, and Isadora had a crazy theory that Gretchen was actually a new person every year because the President didn't want their escorts to ever age.

Ophelia thought she was crazy, but Isadora was confident that she was right.

"Ladies first!" Her shrill voice fueled Isadora's excitement and she clenched her fists at her side, doing everything in her power to stop herself from raising her hand right then and there.

"Bri-"

Her hand shot up. "I volunteer." Grinning viciously, the Career made her way to the stage, long red hair streaking behind her.

"Isadora Juno. Seventeen." She had grabbed the microphone from 'Gretchen', who relented with a sigh. The escorts from Districts One and Two were used to volunteer tributes by now and had learned to let them take control over the microphone. Fortunately for Gretchen, Isadora kept her introduction short and simple. The look on her face said everything, anyway.

"Wonderful! Now for the gentleman." She picked a slip and announced the tributes name. There was a moment of silence before Jakob stepped forward, the designated male volunteer. Isadora felt the urge to roll her eyes, knowing Jakob's hesitation was for dramatic purposes only. Both he and Isadora had no intentions about volunteering, desperate to make a comeback from the 99th Games, where the male from One had slit the throats of the District Two tributes in their sleep.

"Jakob Kenzington. Eighteen." He smirked into the microphone. Jakob had beady eyes and tiny features, making his head look small in comparison to his very broad shoulders. Although lacking in the looks department, he was extremely skilled and Isadora knew he would make tough competition in the arena. Or a great ally, if she were lucky enough to be matched with him.

The volunteers shook hands before exiting the stage, waving and grinning at the cheering crowd.

Her family and Ophelia had come to say goodbye, but Isadora was distracted. The feeling of being on the stage was addictive and she couldn't wait to return as Victor. She tuned out her mother's superficial chattering, instead imagining herself in front of the Capitol, being interviewed by Caesar.

"She's not even listening, mom." Her older sister Mila rolled her eyes in exasperation, which was her reaction to anything that had to do with the Games. She had refused to train, instead excelling in school and getting a job as a teacher. She was adored by her parents, a fact that all the other Juno siblings resented.

"You can't be daydreaming in the arena, Isadora," Her father chided.

With one last goodbye and a final hug for Macey, her family eventually left the room. She felt a pang of...something...when she realized that Leroy wouldn't be visiting. It was obvious from the beginning that they weren't that into each other, but she would miss having a constant debate companion. Cormac came and went, going over everything he and Isadora had already discussed. She deemed his visit a bit redundant, but nodded along anyway, appreciating the last moments she had with him.

"I've got this, don't worry." The corner of her mouth turned up. "Next time you see me, I'll be a Victor."

 **Chapter Question: With three _completely_ different tributes introduced, who is your favorite tribute so far? **


	5. Reapings Pt 4 - Cleo Zaira

**A/N: This is the last reaping chapter, and the next four chapters will be the train rides. Thank you guys for all of the reviews! It really helps me to see what you guys like or dislike about the characters and the way they are written. All feedback is appreciated :)**

 **So I posted this chapter earlier today, but I ended up deleting it because both the creator of Cleo and I were not too happy on the way she turned out. But I think I managed to capture her complex character decently, and there will definitely be more about her revealed in later chapters!**

 **Thanks to mukkou for Cleo! I hope you enjoy her character as much as I do.**

Clementine "Cleo" Zaira, 17, District 7

She closed her eyes, trying to conjure up the song she had heard on the radio the other day. It took her a couple tries, but she managed to find the melody with her finger tips. Her hands moved swiftly and delicately across the piano while the rest of her remained completely still, posture rigid and face stoic.

Cleo hit a wrong note. It was such a slight mistake that it wouldn't have even been noticeable to an outsider, but the frustrated twitching of her facial muscles betrayed her. She paused, taking a deep breath before going back over the song in her head. Almost as if her mind were playing a video or an audio clip, she rewound the song in her head, searching for her mistake. Finding the spot, she hummed the note softly, plucking a few keys until she found the B flat that matched the note in her head. Cleo began to play again from the beginning, grinning slightly as a perfect rendition of Chopin's Waltz in A Minor echoed throughout her school's empty music room.

Feeling satisfied, she stood up from the sleek bench and tiptoed across the room. The door to the music room had a slight creak to it, so she made sure to open it as slowly as possible and shut it softly behind her. It wasn't a school day, since today was the Reaping, so Cleo technically wasn't allowed to be here. That wouldn't stop her, though. Playing the piano was one of the only times that Cleo allowed herself to release her emotions, as she usually preferred to keep her true feelings to herself. Plus, she had long ago memorized the route the Peacekeepers took when patrolling on the school's off days, so it wasn't as if she would get caught. There wasn't even a need to be quiet today since all the Peacekeepers would be at the Reaping, but her constant paranoia wouldn't let her be careless.

She slid silently out the backdoor of her school and started down the trodden path back to the heart of town, easing considerably once she was out of danger of being caught. Cleo entered her house through the front door, being careful to shut it gently behind her so that the loose hinge didn't come off again. Her mother worked as a paper-maker, so while she was able to support her three children, there wasn't exactly extra money lying around to replace an entire door.

Daisy, Cleo's mother, was in the kitchen, humming softly as she tried to braid her ten-year-old daughter's hair. Audrey was Cleo's half-sister, a product of another one of Daisy's failed relationships. The young mother looked down helplessly at the messy knot in her hand, awkwardly trying to cross sections of hair over one another.

Cleo's older brother sighed and stood up from his seat at the table, gently pushing their mother aside. "It's fine, mom. I can do it." Henry gently brushed out Audrey's hair, planning to do her hair like he did every morning before taking her to school. He was already in his Reaping attire. When he noticed that Cleo had entered the room, he gave her a slight look of disgust before turning his attention back to the younger girl.

"Clementine, how was your morning?" Her mother inquired, attempting to sound as if she was truly interested, but Cleo knew she was only asking out of formality. The dark circles and red-rimmed eyes meant that another one of Daisy's dates had gone sour, leaving her to reevaluate her life and try to be a better mother to her children. Only this would soon pass, and she would start to feel as if she hadn't done anything with her life, leading her to go out and seek a new relationship again. This was a cycle that Cleo knew all too well.

"It was fine." She replied, growing slightly frustrated but keeping her tone casual. If her mother really cared, she would be questioning where Cleo had gone to so early in the morning when she should have been getting ready for the Reaping. Refusing to speak to her family any longer, Cleo changed into her Reaping outfit and headed toward the woods where she had planned to meet up with her friends.

It was a short walk, but Cleo's mind wandered toward the Games that would be taking place in a week. She knew it was unusual, but Cleo couldn't help how she felt about the Games. It wasn't that she loved watching people kill each other, but depth and deception that occurred was just so _riveting_. The fact that some tributes were able to completely deceive and manipulate their allies was so intriguing to Cleo that she started seeing if she could do it herself, using her friends as guinea pigs.

What would it feel like to have people completely at your mercy? What would it feel like to be the one who was at the mercy of another, blind to the deception until only moments before death?

The tributes who acted one way during their time in the Capitol but flipped a switch were her favorites. Last year, Atlas was the male tribute for District Seven. Cleo hadn't known him personally, but she had watched his charming persona on television. The Capitol loved him, but Cleo had always been able to tell that the gleam in his eye meant something. In the arena he had flipped a switch, becoming brutal and borderline psychotic, attempting to cut up his District partner against a tree. She had felt a tugging in her gut, drawing her toward the screen as she sat, mesmerized.

The faint chattering of her friends drifted closer until she spotted them through the trees, lounging on the grass.

She wondered what it would be like to stab someone in the back. Not physically, but metaphorically. Cleo knew so many secrets about the three girls that lay before her, it would be so easy to mess up their lives or turn them on each other if she desired.

A small smile tugged at her lips. She supposed this is what it felt like to have power over another tributes life. If Cleo had a little more desire to _physically_ hurt people, she believed she would have made a good Career.

" _Cleo_ ," Lillian snapped her fingers in front of her face, her features set in a very annoyed expression. "Are you even listening? Seriously, I don't know where you disappear to in that head of yours."

Cleo smiled, her big lips revealing slightly large teeth. "Sorry, Lillian. Just got lost in thought. What were you saying?" Her voice came out light and pleasant, but in her mind, she was imagining all the ways she could control Lillian if they were tributes in the arena. The raven-haired girl wasn't hard to manipulate; she was constantly seeking approval from others and would do just about anything to get it. All Cleo would have to do is make her believe she really needed her to survive, and the girl would stick by her in the arena. And then if they ran into trouble, it wouldn't be hard for Cleo to ditch her and escape…

"I was asking, do you think Jeremiah is interested in me? I saw him staring at me the entire class yesterday." Lillian straightened her spine and stuck out her chest as if to prove a point. Cleo knew for a fact that Jeremiah had been staring at her, but only because he and his friends enjoyed making fun of her behind her back.

Lillian's eyes darted nervously around their small circle of friends, as if she was afraid somebody would object. How far could Cleo push her before she snapped? It would probably only take one comment.

"I'm not sure, Lillian. I think Christina might be more Jeremiah's type." Cleo pouted in fake sympathy, her almond shaped eyes analyzing Lillian's reaction with detached curiosity. Lillian's eyes widened, her panicked look showing her true lack of self-esteem.

"Of course not." The raven-haired girl snapped, looking almost hysterical as she glanced over at Christina. "She's not even pretty."

Christina glanced at them lazily, not even bothering to react. She was used to being the punching bag of the group. They told her it was payback for how cruel she had been to them when they were younger, and the girl had accepted it, simple as that.

Cleo narrowed her eyes. Her straight, dark eyebrows dipped lower as she flitting her gaze over Christina's tanned body. "Hm," She pursed her lips before turning back to Lillian. "Yeah, you're right."

Lillian smirked, her self-esteem restored at the expense of Christina. Cleo stood up, stretching out her long limbs. Bea, the final member of their friend group, eyed Cleo with her big doe eyes.

"Are we leaving for the Reaping now?" She scrambled to her feet, not wanting to be left behind. Cleo barely contained an eye roll, instead opting for a fake smile.

"I'm going to go now. You guys can stay here longer, if you want." Her hazel eyes flickered over the three of them, all staring up at her in expectation. Cleo's fake smile changed into a smirk. It was almost too easy; she had them all eating out of the palm of her hand. Cleo was playing a mental Hunger Games in District Seven and she was determined to come out on top.

Cleo began her trek back through the woods. An irritated frown made its way onto her face as she heard the sound of footsteps behind her. She spotted a flash of red hair through the trees, confirming her suspicion of who it was.

"Bea, what are you doing?" She questioned somewhat aggressively, losing her patience with her friend. She was like a stray puppy. Feed her once and she'd follow you forever. Cleo bit her tongue, forcing her aggression out of her body.

"I wanted to come with you!" The redhead blushed, reaching for Cleo's hand. Cleo was disgusted, but she didn't let it show.

How long could she string Bea along before she realized that Cleo didn't actually care for her? Probably forever, if she wanted to. A few nights ago, the two had shared a kiss in the woods. Then, Cleo had thought that she might have had some sort of feelings for Bea, but they quickly turned to disgust when the girl wouldn't leave her alone.

But Cleo was on a power trip, and the thought of Bea hanging on her every word was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

"I would love for you to come with me, but I don't want Lillian and Christina getting suspicious. It's not that I'm embarrassed, but you know how jealous they would be if we spent all our time together." Cleo looked down shyly, pretending that she had revealed something very important. Bea, who liked to feel important, nodded her head rapidly, promising that she would keep it a secret for now.

A brilliant idea formed in Cleo's mind. Could she make Bea love her enough to volunteer for her if she got reaped? Next year would be her last year eligible for the Reaping, and it would be nice to have a safety net if she got unlucky. Maybe, Cleo would make a 'promise' to volunteer for her if she got reaped.

The thought of keeping the charade going for another year seemed tough, but it would be the ultimate test of Cleo's abilities. Could she actually convince someone to die for her?

Twenty minutes later, Cleo stood in the seventeen-year-old section. On stage, the three mentors from District Seven sat rigidly in their chairs, Juliet looking especially pale. Probably because it was her first Reaping as a Victor and not a possible tribute. It was weird seeing her up there in front of everyone without the usual dark makeup and fancy outfits she bore in the Capitol. She looked smaller in real life. More vulnerable.

The male tribute would be called first. Each year Hilda, the ditzy escort, would switch the order in which she picked the genders. Last year, Juliet's name had been called first. The year before that it had been Luke's, the Victor of the 98th Games. With two District Seven Victors in a row, the chances of another win were extremely slim. The sun beat down on her, and Cleo fanned herself, getting slightly irritated that she had to stand in this heat.

Hilda took the stage and Cleo's lip curled up in disgust. She hated the Capitol, but it came with the territory of the Hunger Games. They were just so…gullible. They would believe anything if it seemed like a good story. It was too easy to manipulate them, so countless tributes did it each year to gain sponsors in the arena.

"Stone Izar!" Hilda announced the name of the male tribute with her usual dramatic flair. A very tall, awkward looking boy stepped out of the fifteen-year-old section, his face frightened. Surprisingly, he wasn't crying, but from his increasingly red face and scrunched up expression he was trying extremely hard not to. He had mop of blonde, curly hair and light eyes. Objectively, he was a cute kid, but Cleo wasn't into guys.

"Clementine Zaira!"

A wave of irritation overcame her. This was _so_ inconvenient. She had so many plans, so many strategies she wanted to play out in her _own_ Hunger Games, not the Capitol's.

Cleo had been so calm today, playing her part perfectly, but the combination of the heat and the fact that she was just freaking reaped for the Hunger Games had her boiling on the inside.

She stomped up to the stage, fists clenched tightly by her side. Each step taken toward the stage fueled the fire inside her. Cleo was now a ticking time bomb, and the bright smile on her escort's face set her off.

"Are you kidding me?" She shouted into Hilda's face, causing the woman to stumble back in surprise. "You have the nerve to _smile_ , like I should be happy that you just happened to pick my name. Do I look happy to you?" She motioned to the obvious scowl on her face.

She ripped the microphone from the trembling escort's hands. If she was going to leave District Seven, she'd go out with a bang. "At least I'm getting away from you three," Cleo pointed into the crowd, singling out her 'friends'. "This clique that you guys have is awful. You only care about amusing yourselves and fulfilling your desperate need for attention."

Ironically, Cleo wasn't leaving it behind. While she was leaving her clique of friends, she was entering an entirely new one: The Capitol. Finally, the Mayor rushed on stage and took the microphone, ending her tirade.

Still reeling in anger, Cleo paced the room she had been put it, kicking the walls and pushing over chairs.

"Clementine?" Her mother poked her head through the door, wincing when she saw the state of the room. Hesitantly, her family piled into the room. Henry shielded Audrey behind his back as if he were afraid Cleo would attack her. She knew that Henry had deemed Cleo a bad influence on Audrey, and Cleo despised him for cutting her out of the family, but in that moment a part of her burned with jealousy at the relationship between him and the ten-year-old.

"I don't get why you're so mad, Cleo." Henry said sourly, stepping so that Audrey was completely hidden from her view. "You can finally live out your weird Hunger Games fantasies."

She shook her head, frustrated. Henry didn't understand why Cleo was so intent on watching the Games every year. He just didn't get it.

"When I come back alive, you'll see that my 'fantasies' paid off. I know everything there is to know about how to play the Capitol's game. Good thing it's me and not you, Henry. You wouldn't make it past the Bloodbath." Cleo seethed, hoping her family wouldn't stay too much longer. They left quickly after that, and Cleo wondered why they had bothered to come in the first place.

Lillian, Bea, and Christina never showed up, but Cleo wasn't surprised. Feeling another wave of anger wash over her, she kicked at the wall again, not even feeling the pain. She usually bottled up her emotions, but letting out all her frustrations felt _good_. Unfortunately, Cleo would soon have to bring out her best acting skills for the Capitol.

 **Chapter Question: Out of the four tributes we have so far, which two would go the furthest in the games as a pair? (I already have the pairs decided, I'm just curious to see what you guys think xD)**


	6. Train Rides Pt 1 - Calliar Brinstone

**A/N: I'm cranking these chapters out extremely quickly because I'm so excited to introduce all of these characters to you.**

 **Thanks to Dreaming of Starry Skies for Calliar, our female tribute from District Twelve.**

Calliar Brinstone, 15, District 12

Calliar hated her district partner. He was a full two years older than her, but he was acting like an immature thirteen-year-old. Her brown eyes darkened in anger when he opened his mouth _again_.

"This is bullshit. I shouldn't be here." Kohl yelled, throwing his hands up in the air. Next to Calliar sat her mentor, Kora, who looked as if she were about to murder the boy.

"None of us _want_ to be here." Calliar finally snapped, having enough of his whining. "What makes you think you're any different than the other tributes who get reaped?"

"My father-"

Kora stood up abruptly. "Who your father is doesn't mean shit to the Capitol. You were reaped, fair and square. And if you want my help, which you'll need to survive in the arena, then I suggest you shut up."

Kohl's mouth clamped shut in surprise. Calliar looked toward Kora with begrudging respect. Everyone in District Twelve had heard rumors about Kora's prickly exterior, but this is the first time Calliar had experienced it firsthand. They had been on the train for a good half hour at this point, but this was the first time Kora had bothered to speak to them. She appreciated her no-nonsense attitude, especially since it got Kohl to stop talking.

The boy got to his feet, stubbornly stomping off to his room on the train. Calliar sighed and rubbed her temples, trying to rid herself of the headache that was Kohl.

She could barely believe it when she got reaped. Sure, she had taken out the maximum amount of tesserae possible, but she hadn't ever thought about actually getting reaped. Out of all the starving children in District Twelve, it had just seemed impossible to consider that she might one day be shipped off to the Capitol to fight to the death.

At least Calliar knew what it was like to have to fight to survive. Years of street fighting for a living have kept her constantly on edge, learning how to watch her own back, and only hers. The Hunger Games wouldn't be much different, except this time she had to watch out for another person.

God, she _hated_ the twist.

She turned her attention toward Kora, analyzing the thirty-something-year old with judgmental eyes. Kora looked like her, which was a good thing. That meant she was from the Seam, the poorest part of District Twelve, and understood what Calliar went through on a daily basis. There were always exceptions, but the Seam kids were the ones that were usually reaped because of all the tesserae they had to take out. Kohl was one of those exceptions. His light hair, paler skin, and disbelief that he was actually reaped signaled he was from the richer part of District Twelve (which would probably be considered poor in any other district).

Kora raised an eyebrow, noticing Calliar's scrutiny. "Can I help you?"

"Actually, yes." Calliar leaned in, face set in a determined frown. "You need to teach me how to survive."

"Do you know how many tributes have said that to me?" The woman ran her eyes up and down Calliar's body, examining her. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking slightly bored with the conversation. "Look, I'll be honest with you. I can't teach you to survive if you don't have the will to get through the Games. I can tell you everything I know about fighting, everything I know about survival skills, but it won't matter if you give up in the arena."

Calliar thought that statement was slightly unfair. She didn't think that every single tribute Kora had lost had just 'given up' in the arena. They couldn't help that they were attacked by mutts, or that a trained Career managed to take them down. It wasn't as if they decided to lay down and wait for death.

The only reason she understood what Kora was saying was because she knew all about Kora's games. They were the 85th Games, the same year Calliar was born, and one of the most brutal and bloody games of all time. Kora literally fought tooth and nail to be pronounced Victor, and she wasn't let out of the hospital until over two months later.

Was Calliar prepared to do that? Hell yeah, she was.

"I don't give up." Calliar glared, as if daring Kora to argue. She didn't.

"Alright. What do you do?"

The next question took her off guard. The fifteen-year-old stared awkwardly into Kora's harsh gaze, and the latter rolled her eyes.

"I mean, you're muscular and you've got this arrogant air about you, like you've dealt with something worse than the Games. So what do you do?"

"I'm a street fighter. It's what I do for a living."

Kora quirked an eyebrow. "No parents?"

"My father. But I try not to go home unless absolutely necessary." Anything was better than going home to him.

"Okay, we can work with that. I'm going to go shower and get something to eat, then we can talk. I suggest you do the same." Kora got up off her chair and headed in the opposite direction of where Kohl had gone early. Calliar assumed her room was near Kohl's, so she exited the train car where he had. After a bit of wandering and almost stumbling into her district partner's room by accident, she managed to make it into her designated bedroom.

It was luxury beyond anything she had seen before, and this was just the train. Calliar couldn't even begin to imagine what her apartment in the Training Center would be like. She flopped down on the mattress, her dark hair spreading around her like a halo.

This was the first time that she was alone since she was reaped. There had been a brief moment when she was in the Justice Building by herself, but only for a few seconds before Alexis and Clover barged in. Growing up always training herself to be the best and focusing on only her survival, she never really learned how to socially interact with others her age. Alexis and Clover were the closest things she had to friends, and that was because they were the only three girls in Twelve that street fight. They were both older than her, and much tougher, but Calliar kept up with them well enough.

Still, Calliar was severely lacking in the social department, and she wasn't excited about having a designated 'friend' in the arena. She wondered who her partner would be. If there was any way at all that she could somehow fly solo, she'd do it in an instant. Calliar relied on herself and herself only, so being tied to someone who could easily get her killed or someone she had to watch out for would physically pain her. It wouldn't be pretty. She bit her lip, wondering if she should have asked Kora to turn on the Reaping so she could get a glimpse of the other tributes and potential partners. So far, she had only seen Kohl, and if he happened to be her partner, she'd probably step off her plate before the countdown just to rid herself of his presence.

Kora didn't even seem to be phased by the Quell Twist or by the competition. Calliar's mentor seemed to think that her survival depended solely on herself, other tributes be damned. That fact should have made Calliar a bit nervous, but she didn't even remember what it felt like to have nerves. She didn't really feel much of anything, anymore. Sometimes anger, sometimes disappointment, but mostly a whole lot of nothing. And annoyance. The whole world just annoyed her.

Suddenly remembering Kora's directions, she jumped off the bed and hurried to the bathroom. It took her much, much longer than it should have, but Calliar eventually figured out how to work the shower. The brunette couldn't remember the last time that she had taken an actual shower. She must have had one at least once, because the feeling of the water beating down on her wasn't an unfamiliar feeling, but the normal way of washing herself was luke warm water in a small tub.

She left the shower smelling strangely fruity. The mirror in the bathroom caught her eye as she walked by. Calliar knew what she looked like, obviously she had seen her reflection before, but this time was different. Before the Games, she had often analyzed her features in an attempt to see if she was as pretty as her mother was in the only picture she had of her (Calliar had scowled, decided that she wasn't, then deemed her appearance trivial anyway). Now, she looked at her body, wanting to see if it was the body of a Victor. She flexed her muscles, happy to see that she was clearly toned and might actually come off as a threat to the other tributes. Her shoulders were very broad, which she had previously deemed as masculine, but now she was grateful for her strong arms and sturdier stature.

Calliar eventually exited the room, sure that she would be the last one to arrive in the dining car. Kohl had entered only second before her, his hair also looking damp from the shower. She snickered as she got a whiff of him. He smelled of a strong mix of lilac and apple, as if he hadn't quite been able to figure out the fancy Capitol gadgets in the shower. Calliar sniffed herself, scowling when she realized she didn't smell much better.

Dinner was awkward. Calliar didn't speak, too busy stuffing her face with food she didn't even know the name of. Kohl was unusually quiet, still sulking after being reprimanded by Kora. Their mentor didn't seem too keen on conversation either, leaving their escort to be the only one chatting away. Bo was a short, pudgy guy who always had a nervous smile on his face. He asked the tributes questions, finally falling silent when he realized no one would answer.

Calliar stuffed a particularly juicy fruit into her mouth, regretting it instantly when it seemed to explode in her mouth and juice began to dribble down her chin.

Kohl scoffed, seeming to regain some of his indignation. "What, you don't know how to eat?"

She chewed aggressively in order to finish her bite so she could retort, glowering in the meantime.

"That doesn't surprise me, though, coming from a Seam kid. It's not like you eat that much anyway. I bet you to pick leaves off trees." He continued, causing Calliar to shoot up out of her chair, shouting obscenities.

She lunged, attempting to grab Kohl by his shirt and yank him up out of his chair. Calliar could probably pound him into the ground if she wanted, but he wasn't worth potentially ruining her chances of survival. Unfortunately, Kohl seemed interested in provoking her to fight, pushing her hard and almost sending her tumbling to the ground. Without thinking, she swung her fist, connecting with the side of his nose and under his eye. He fell backward, grabbing at his face in agony.

"Enough!" Kora bellowed, grabbing Calliar by the back of her shirt and roughly forcing her down the train's hallway. Twisting in Kora's grip, Calliar was able to glance back, feeling smug when she saw Kohl's crooked nose and the blue bruise forming beneath his eye.

Kora deposited her in her room, a hard look distorting her otherwise pretty features. Calliar was expecting a lecture, so she was extremely surprised when Kora grinned and shook her head in amusement.

"You remind me of myself. Get some sleep, kid." She slid the door shut, leaving Calliar sitting dumbfounded on the bed.

 **Chapter Question: What do you think the arena is going to be? (Kudos to anyone who guesses correctly, since it's highly unusual.)**


	7. Train Rides Pt 2 - Aenon Monroe

**A/N: The train rides are turning out to be a lot more difficult than I thought. I had sort of a system going for the Reapings chapter so I could characterize each tribute, but it's definitely a lot harder to introduce tributes with the train rides xD Hopefully you're still enjoying the chapter!**

 **Thanks to Mistycharming for Aenon! I have some great plans for him later on :) In this chapter we also get a look at another one of our tributes, Isla, who will be getting her own chapter soon. Enjoy!**

 **Also, if you submitted a tribute but haven't been reviewing, just post a short review or something so I know that you're still following along with the story! It would be greatly appreciated :)**

Aenon Monroe, 18, District Four

He wasn't going to volunteer. This time last year, right before his second to last Reaping, his mom and older brother had pulled him aside and told him not to. Since he began training ten years ago, Aenon had dreamed about winning the games and becoming rich enough that no one in his family would ever have to work again. But if his mother and his brother didn't want him to, then he wouldn't put them through that. Family always came first, so he wouldn't volunteer.

That decision lasted about half a year, until his youngest sister fell sick. She was only twelve-years-old and quite small for her age, so when a sickness rampaged through District Four and their family, little Rosemary was hit the hardest. It had gotten so bad that she needed Capitol medicine to survive. With only his mom and oldest brother able to work, they could barely afford enough to feed the six of them, let alone pay for medicine to be shipped from the Capitol.

Aenon knew that his victory would be the only thing that would keep his family alive. It was either risk his life or condemn Rosemary's. He chose to risk his.

The risk was great-don't get him wrong, he knew how difficult the Games were-but Aenon was pretty confident in his abilities. He was strong, level headed, and at the top of his class in the Academy. If anyone had a chance, it was him.

But he still had his doubts. Would he even be able to kill? That was a huge part of why he had decided not to volunteer in the first place. He loved training, and the rush that he got when fighting or practicing with a new weapon was unmatched by any of his other hobbies, but he didn't think he would be able to take another's life. Now, he didn't have a choice.

The door to the room he was placed in was flung open. Four people filed into the room; his mother, brother Sebastian, and sisters Cordelia and Jordon. There was one face missing.

"Where's Rosemary?" He questioned worriedly, craning his neck to see if she was still outside.

"Honey, she didn't attend the Reaping. The doctors came right after you left, and they cleared her to stay home." His mother, laid a hand on his shoulder, looking misty eyed.

That was bad. Only those on their death bed were allowed to miss the Reaping. Aenon didn't know that Rosemary's illness had taken a turn for the worse, as his mother worked tirelessly to make sure that he and his siblings weren't stressed over his sister's health.

All doubts he had about his ability to kill the other tributes vanished. If he didn't win, both he and his sister would be dead, and Aenon wouldn't let that happen. He wouldn't let his mom lose them like she had lost his father.

"I'll win this for her." He held his head high, showing his family that he had no regrets about volunteering.

His sisters hugged him goodbye, Jordan clutching tightly at his shoulders as she sobbed. Sebastian took his hand in a firm grip, looking seriously into his eyes.

"We didn't want you to volunteer, but you're very stubborn." Sebastian let out a laugh, but his heart wasn't in it. "I understand why you did. If I was eligible, I would have done the same. But I need you to promise me that you'll put yourself above any other friends or alliances you make in the arena. You can't protect everyone, Aenon, and we need you to come back to us."

The dark-haired Career nodded, squeezing Sebastian's hand in reassurance. A Peacekeeper stood in the doorway, signaling that their time was up. Aenon held his breath as they walked out, shakily releasing it when they had all gone. This was going to be much harder than he thought.

His friend Dylan came into the room next, followed by his girlfriend, Atlalanta. Aenon and Dylan had been close friends since they were five-years-old, adding Atalanta to their group when they were ten. Dylan and Atalanta had started dating a year or so ago. Aenon didn't mind, but he was slightly jealous of their relationship. As much as it would be nice for him to have a girlfriend, Aenon was never able to get close enough to anyone to have romantic feelings. It took a lot to earn his trust and friendship, so he hadn't found a girl he respected enough to give his all to, but looking at the love between Dylan and Atalanta made him wish he had.

"Gosh, Aenon, you need to come back." Atalanta flung herself into the arms of her longest friend. She held him in an almost motherly embrace, comforting Aenon in a way he didn't even know he needed.

Dylan hung back awkwardly, looking upset. Aenon knew he was mad at him for volunteering, but Dylan just didn't understand why Aenon did what he did. Unfortunately, Dylan's family was very distant from each other, so he had a hard time coming to terms with Aenon's decision. He couldn't understand why Aenon would risk his life for his family.

"I'll probably never understand why you _chose_ to leave us," Dylan started, confirming Aenon's suspicions. Aenon's best friend looked down at the ground and sighed heavily, as if he was coming to terms with his new reality. "But, I know that you truly believe this is what you have to do. And I'm going to support you the entire way."

Aenon let go of Atalanta and wrapped Dylan in a tight hug, feeling unexpected tears well up in his eyes. "I'm going to miss you, man. I'll be back soon."

Once he had said his final goodbyes, the Peacekeeper escorted him and his District partner onto the train. This was the first chance he was able to get a real get look at Isla, the female tribute.

She had been reaped, but she had been in the class below him at the Academy, so he knew she was trained. Isla was strikingly beautiful, with her high cheek bones and bright amber eyes. She fixed her gaze on Aenon. The amount of sympathy in her eyes shocked him, especially since he had volunteered. Her eyes flickered down to his cheeks, and Aenon wiped at them subconsciously when he realized there were probably tear marks.

"How are you holding up?" She spoke, her voice light yet empathetic. She settled down into the chair opposite Aenon as if she were his therapist.

"Um, okay." He responded dumbly. The way her eyes bore into his made him uncomfortable. How was this girl so calm when she was just reaped? Isla nodded and didn't try to continue the conversation, as if understood what he was feeling.

If she were his partner in the arena, he would possibly have an easier time talking to her, but she would most likely be his adversary. Isla's calm and collected demeanor was very off putting, and he tried his best to ignore her and explore the train with his eyes, purposely looking everywhere except her face. He could still feel her eyes burning into the side of his face, and he felt his cheeks go hot.

Finn and Bay, District Four's most recent Victors, entered the room loudly. Well, Finn entered loudly, with Bay following quietly behind.

"Well, well, well. What have we got here?" The younger of the two mentors clomped ungracefully over the carpeted floor, a wide grin on his face. After running his eyes up and down the pair, Finn's smile grew even larger and he rubbed his hands together greedily. "Oh good, you're both attractive. There's so much we can do with that."

Aenon raised an eyebrow and looked toward Isla, but her face was neutral.

"Right, well, to start things off, Bay and I will each take one of you. That is, unless you wanted to train together."

Aenon shook his head. He couldn't train with Isla, not when they would most likely be enemies in the arena. "Separate."

Finn nodded, opening his mouth to speak again, but Aenon cut him off.

"I call Finn." Although Finn had the reputation of a complete jokester and was definitely a bit too extraverted for his taste, the twenty-six-year-old was brilliant and won the 90th Games by setting a maze of deadly traps for his final opponent. Aenon's dark eyes glanced sideways at Isla, wondering if she would argue. The girl simply shrugged.

The corners of his lips tugged down slightly. It was irritating how she seemed unbothered by everything. Shouldn't she be scared? He eyed her warily, wondering if she had something up her sleeve or if she was just extremely good at keeping her true feelings on the inside.

"Are you sure you don't want to train together, bud?" Finn questioned, looking thoughtful. "I know the quell twist shakes things up a bit, but I'm sure there will be some sort of Career pack. Depending on your partners, that might be the best route for both of you."

Aenon crossed his arms defensively. "No, separate."

Finn chuckled, holding up his hands. "Stubborn, aren't you? Alright, you're the boss." Aenon forced himself to drop his hands by his sides and relax. That was the second time he been called stubborn today.

Bay finally spoke up, his soft voice barely heard. "Isla, why don't you follow me into one of the other train cars. We can discuss there." She nodded and stood up, exiting the train car behind Bay.

Aenon's mentor sat down in the chair Isla was in, his weight making him sink further into the plush material than she had. Finn's entire demeanor changed, and the smile dropped off his face. He looked seriously at Aenon and clasped his hands together.

"Alright. Why did you volunteer?" His intense gaze made Aenon feel like he was under a microscope.

"For my sister. She's sick and needs medicine from the Capitol that we can't afford. If I don't win, she'll die." He put his situation bluntly, no use sugar coating it. Finn showed no reaction to his statement, just shot another question at him.

"You're trained, am I wrong?" Finn looked pointedly at Aenon's 6'1'', muscular figure.

"Yes, sir. Trained since I was eight."

"And, your family, are you close?"

"Very." He felt a pang in his chest.

"Any friends?"

"Only two. I've known them since I was young." Another pang.

The rapid fire questions continued for a few more minutes, ranging from which weapon he preferred (a spear or trident) to what his favorite fruit was (pineapple).

Finn leaned back, looking satisfied. "I've got you all figured out, kid. You're an open book."

Aenon stared back at him, confused.

"You've trained most of your life, mostly for the thrill of fighting, but you never really thought about seriously volunteering. You love your family more than anything and live to protect them, but because of that, you have a hard time trusting other people or accepting new friendships. But once someone is a part of your life, you're loyal to them to a fault. You can stop me if any of this is wrong."

 _You're wrong_ , he wanted to say, but it would be a lie. Aenon felt like he was under a microscope. He didn't like that he was so simple and easy to understand. That could get him into trouble in the arena. He tried to keep his face impassive, but Finn could probably tell what he was thinking.

"You can win this, kid. But you have to be ruthless. Don't let anything get in your way, especially yourself." Finn shifted closer and Aenon could see the intelligence lurking behind his eyes.

"Now, if you want to come out of this whole thing alive, listen closely."

 **Chapter Question: Which two tributes would make the _worst_ pair in the Games?**


	8. Train Rides Pt 3 - Charity Falls

**A/N: Wow, hearing your arena guesses is extremely interesting xD No one guessed it yet! Its unique, but nothing too crazy, so I'm really hoping that no one else has done it before!**

 **I love hearing your opinions on the tributes, especially who you think would or wouldn't mesh well with whom. Thank you for all the reviews, it means a lot to hear from you!**

 **Thanks to KatnissEeveedeen for Charity! Here, we also get a short overview of the other tributes from Charity's point of view. There will be one more chapter of the train rides, then we'll be moving on to the Opening Ceremonies and hearing from the last four tributes :)**

Charity Falls, 13, District Eleven

She scrunched up her face in concentration, trying her best to stop the tears that were fighting to get out. She wanted to show them that she was strong, that she wouldn't scream or sob like a baby, but she knew it was no use. Charity was sure that her cheeks were still stained with the tears that fell when she had to say goodbye to her parents and friends.

Her little brother was too young to understand what was happening and it broke her heart to think she might not be there to see him grow up. She might not even get to grow up herself. Charity was only thirteen! Thirteen-year-olds never won the Games. She was too young to die, she had so much to look forward to…

Charity squeezed her eyes shut harder as the first tear started to drip down her face. Thankfully, her district partner, another small and scrawny thirteen-year-old like herself, didn't seem to be phased. Neither did her mentor; she was probably used to crying tributes by now. Still, she wanted to show them that she was stronger than District Eleven's average tribute. All her life, she had worked in the orchards with her family, swinging from tree to tree and helping with smaller tasks like setting traps for some of the animals that threatened the crops. She had her strengths and she wanted to prove that.

She was very tiny and a good climber, so it wouldn't be hard for her to the hide in the arena. But if she came face to face with an older tribute, then that would surely be the end of her.

Charity remembered what her father had said right before the Peacekeepers had dragged him away.

" _Remember all those times I showed you how to use a knife? That time we practiced archery? That was all so you would stand a chance, Charity. You might not be strong, but you have this."_ He had tapped her mind with his finger tip, his face the most serious she had ever seen it. Charity knew that her father had been trying for years now to prepare her for the Games, just in case. He had never said it, but it was obvious. She was might be young, but she wasn't stupid.

" _Hold it like this." He instructed, correcting Charity's hand placement on the bow. With one hand he notched an arrow, covering Charity's right hand and gently pulling the string taut. When he backed up, she held the position and aimed at the tree. She let go of the arrow, but I sailed harmlessly toward the ground, not even close to tree. Charity sulked, but her father just laughed and placed a strong hand on her should. "Why don't I show you how to use a knife?"_

Her lower lip trembled as she remembered the time they spent each day going over different weapons, none of which she was even remotely able to use besides a knife. She couldn't even run very fast, especially not without leaving tracks all over the place that would lead another tribute right to her. Charity thought she was a lost cause, but instead, she found that her strengths lie more in the trees than on the ground.

"Falls?" One of the mentors, Rose, looked over, a weird expression on her face that looked like she had just realized something. Rose was in her forties, but Charity thought she looked younger. She had smooth, dark skin, a tiny figure, and a kind expression, but you could easily see the distance and wariness in her eyes.

Charity tried to say something, but it came out as a squeak. She was afraid that if she spoke a sob would come out instead.

"Was your father's name Zagiri?" Before Charity had a chance to say no, Rose was shaking her head, "No, you're too young to be his kid. That was over twenty years ago…"

Charity remained silent, waiting for Rose to finish whatever thought she was going over in her head.

"Did your father have a brother, by any chance?"

Finally, she spoke, her voice sounding scratchy and weak. "Yeah, but he died before I was born. My father never really talked about him. Only mentioned him once or twice."

Rose nodded, looking toward Charity in a strangely sympathetic manner. "Your uncle was a tribute for the Hunger Games the year after I won. He was the first tribute I ever mentored."

Charity looked down at her feet, understanding the unspoken words that her uncle had not been fortunate enough to win. Otherwise, he would be here now, giving her advice on how to avoid her impending death. Charity wanted to ask Rose more about him, but the look on Rose's face made her snap her mouth shut.

It all made sense now, why her father had insisted on showing her how to use different weapons, even if she hadn't been able to adequately use any of them. At first, she thought he was just showing her for fun, but once she started school and began to talk to her friends about it, she realized that it wasn't a normal practice in their district. He was probably paranoid, afraid that his daughter would get reaped like his brother had. It turned out that his fears were validated.

When Charity snapped out of her daydream, Rose was trying to converse with her district partner, but he was sniffling and looking down at his hands. If she stood on his shoulders, the two of them combined would probably still be shorter than the average Career. It seemed that District Eleven would most likely not have a winner this year.

Rose glanced at the silver watch on her wrist then reached for the remote. "We should watch the other Reapings, alright? See who your potential partners might be."

 _And the other twenty-two tributes that will be trying to kill us_. She didn't voice her thoughts out loud, mostly for the sake of her district partner.

The District One Reaping had already started being broadcasted. On stage, a tall, athletic guy was smiling at the crowd. He was thin, but it was easy to tell that he was trained.

The escort began to call out the female tributes name, but there was already a volunteer before she could finish. The girl was tall and fit, definitely trained, but her face was completely devoid of emotion. When she stepped out into the walkway, there were shouts from the back of the crowd, where those who were too young or too old to be reaped stood. Clearly, this girl was not expected to volunteer. She held her chin high and walked slowly with perfect posture. With her long, blonde hair, creamy skin, and proud expression, Charity thought she looked very regal.

The camera panned over to District One's Mayor, who was very red in the face and looked angry. His sharp gaze followed the girl as she took the stage, but she remained stoic and kept her gaze high above the crowd, only acknowledging the escort by speaking her name into the microphone.

District Two appeared on screen next. The typical Careers volunteered, both looking as strong, excited, and scary as ever. Charity swallowed thickly, her hands starting to shake at the sight of the Careers. She knew she should want of them to be her partner, as it would give her a much higher chance of surviving, but they terrified her. She supposed one of the District One tributes wouldn't be horrible. Anything but the maniacs from Two.

The District Three tributes intrigued Charity. The boy looked very displeased and frowned unpleasantly. The female was a mess, crying and talking to herself the entire time she walked up to the stage. It was weird, but the thirteen-year-old scolded herself for judging. It wasn't as if she held herself together much better, when she was reaped.

The pair from District Four were surprisingly good looking, and Charity almost blushed when the boy volunteered. He was a Career, but he didn't look very excited about going into the arena. The girl was reaped, but besides a momentary flicker of surprise on her face, she took her place on stage without any fuss. Charity decided she wouldn't mind having either of them as a partner.

The District Five reaping left Charity feeling sad. Both were younger tributes, like she and her district partner, and probably wouldn't last very long in the arena. She felt slightly disgusted with herself when a voice in the back of her mind told her that it was less competition to worry about.

District Six wasn't much different than the previous reaping. The boy was doing his best not to cry, but he wasn't very successful. The female tribute was a small twelve-year-old who held it together surprisingly well with just a tiny, sad smile on her face.

The most interesting Reaping, in Charity's opinion, was District Seven. The boy reacted normally, becoming red in the face as he tried to hold back tears, but the girl started throwing a temper tantrum. She screamed into the escort's face before yelling something at the crowd, causing the two tributes to be rushed off the stage pretty quickly. Charity closed her eyes, praying silently that she was partnered with _anyone_ except her.

The rest of the Districts passed uneventfully, only two tributes catching her eye- a confident fourteen-year-old from District Nine and two very angry tributes from District Twelve, though not as bad as the girl from Seven.

Charity had turned away from the screen when her own Reaping had come on. She already knew she had cried like a baby, so there was no use in reliving the memory. The other tributes were probably all hoping not to get her as a partner. She would be the weak link, most likely.

While Charity knew there was a lot of things that could go wrong with the Quell Twist, she was secretly happy that she would have someone who was a lifeline in the arena. Whether they liked it or not, they would be forced to protect her, and because two people would win the Games, she had twice as much of a chance to win than during a normal Hunger Games. She wouldn't be the _worst_ partner to have, since she knew a lot about plants and setting traps, but she figured that the older tributes wouldn't agree. She would just have to work extra hard during training to prove that she could be useful.

Rose looked up from her pad of paper where she had most likely been marking down information about the other tributes.

"It's late, you guys should get some sleep before we get to the Capitol. Tomorrow will be a very long day."

Charity thought that the rest of her life was going to be a series of very, very long days.

Rose showed them to their rooms, trying to comfort her district partner along the way. He seemed inconsolable, so Rose just sighed and shut the door to his room.

"Here's your room." She opened up the sliding door to reveal a lush, extravagant interior. Charity could have found the room by herself, considering there was a giant 'D11 F' labeled on the door, but Rose seemed to like taking care of the tributes to the best of her ability.

The thirteen-year-old entered the room and quickly crawled onto the bed. She curled up in a ball, looking very tiny on the wide mattress. Suddenly exhausted, she yawned and began to close her eyes, but she noticed Rose still lingering in the doorway with a sad expression.

"You look like him." The corners of her mouth turned up as she studied Charity's face.

Blinking sleepy at her mentor, Charity mumbled, "Tell me about him."

Rose entered the room and sat at the foot of her bed. The mattress barely shifted under the weight of her tiny frame, but her motherly presence calmed Charity.

"He was very kind and sweet, but he loved to joke around. Always brought a smile to my face, even in this horrible situation." She spoke so softly that Charity had to strain her ears to hear her.

"It was my first year as a mentor, and I wasn't expecting to get so attached to a tribute. I've tried to keep my distance with tributes ever since, but it's impossible for me. Especially when District Eleven seems to have an unlucky streak with picking younger tributes." Rose patted Charity's leg, looking down at the tiny girl.

"You should get some rest." Rose stood up, making her way toward the door. She paused, looking back, but Charity was already fast asleep.

 **Chapter Question: Which tribute are you most excited to see more of/learn more about?**


	9. Train Rides Pt 4 - Adrienne Villiars

**A/N: Only four more chapters left until the pairing ceremony, which will be from an outside point of view (Juliet's or Luke's, I haven't decided). After that, each tribute will get one more point of view before the games start so we can get a good look at their interactions/opinions about their partner. I won't say why I paired the tributes how I did because I don't want to give anything away for the arena, but I have a few things to say about the pairs once they're posted :)**

 **Thanks to Alice Kingsleighs for Adrienne :)**

Adrienne Villiers, 18, District One

The mayor entered her room first, his face redder than usual and his breath coming out in short puffs. "How could you do this to your family? To my son?" He spat out, furious with Adrienne's decision to volunteer.

"I'm going to bring honor to my district." She held her head high and kept her face stoic. Of course, that wasn't why she volunteered, but he didn't have to know that.

"Harold will be in to say his goodbye soon. You're going to have to face what you've done."

Adrienne fought back an eye roll as the Mayor exited the room with a huff. Her next visitors were her family, and she took a deep breath to brace herself.

"Adrienne! How could you just throw away your life like that? We worked hard to find you a rich suitor, to do everything in our power to move up in social class so you could have a better life!" Her mother shrieked and her expensive jewelry jangled loudly as she threw her hands up in the air.

She wanted so badly to release the anger built up inside her, but she had been raised all her life to be a lady and never let her emotions get the best of her. Still, Adrienne couldn't help the spiteful tone that escaped her.

"You worked hard, but not for me. It was for yourself. You used me to climb the social latter. I never wanted to marry Harold."

Her mother gasped, causing her father to step forward. "You better do everything in your power, Adrienne, to make sure you come back a Victor and honor your engagement. You owe us that much."

The blonde contained her anger by clasping her hands together and setting her mouth into a firm, thin line. She would try to come back, yes, but not for her family. If she was able to emerge as a Victor, she would be finally free of her family and be able to control her own life. Refusing to speak to her greedy and demanding parents any longer, Adrienne tilted her head her head to the side to show that their conversation was over.

Her mother began to cry, but they weren't tears for Adrienne. They were tears for her lost chance to join the elite class through the engagement of Adrienne and the mayor's son. After a few more attempts to lecture her, Adrienne's parents finally left her alone. There would only be a few more visits before she would be able to escape District One forever.

Harold entered next, and Adrienne felt a pang of guilt. She hadn't meant to hurt him, but she didn't love him. How could she resign herself to a life like that?

He looked at her with a sad smile, as if he had known all along how this would end up.

"I'm not mad," He began softly, making Adrienne feel worse. "I knew you didn't love me. But really, you didn't have to resort to this just to escape me. You could have just told me." He joked, sending a rush of regret through her. He was a great guy, just not for her. She was doing this as much for him as she was for herself; they would have been miserable. He didn't deserve a loveless marriage.

"It wasn't you, Harold, it was my parents. I-" She paused, unaccustomed to sharing her feelings with someone else, but he deserved the truth. "I need to do this. I need to become my own person."

His smile grew and he chuckled softly, shaking his head. "And here I thought you joined the training academy just to anger your parents. When did you decide to volunteer?"

She didn't want to hurt him, but he needed to know. "Since my father set up the engagement."

He tried his best to hide it from her, but she could tell he was upset. He had a right to be. Adrienne had played the part of his fiancé perfectly to please her parents so they would continue to let her train, but she had led him on in the process.

He took a step closer until they were face to face, his dark eyes boring into her guarded, sharp green ones. "Come back, Adrienne." He kissed her softly on the cheek and left without looking back.

The last person to enter was Royce. Instantly, he swept her up into his arms. She buried her face into the shoulder that had always been there for her to cry on. He was the only person she regretted leaving behind in District One.

"I believe in you." Her trainer pulled back and looked her in the eye, forcing her to match his gaze by cupping his hand under his chin. Despite only being a few years older than her, Royce had always helped her with her training at the Academy when they were younger. Once he was no longer of reaping age, he became her official trainer. He was one of the only real people in her life -her only true friend. She hadn't realized it would hurt this bad to say goodbye.

"You just need to-"

"-play to my strengths. I know." She finished his sentence with a smile. "Be charming, dangerous, and find a double-bladed sword in the arena." She recited the rest of his advice by heart. Adrienne usually found it easy to know exactly what he would say.

Royce gave her a sly smile. His eyes flickered across her face, taking in her elegant features one last time. It had taken a while, but he had eventually managed to get past her proper and haughty façade to see the kind-hearted girl that lay underneath. But if she did come back from the arena, she would be a very different girl. He had seen it happen countless of times.

Adrienne took a step back, knowing that in any second the Peacekeepers would come barging in and whisk her off to the Capitol. Royce placed a soft kiss to her hair line, causing her to look down and fight back a blush. When she looked back up, he was gone.

It seemed like only a few seconds later that she was on the speeding train. She sat in an unusually comfortable chair, her posture straight and legs crossed daintily – a force of habit instilled in her by her appearance-obsessed mother. Her district partner sat on the couch next to her, his slumped and relaxed demeanor in sharp contrast to Adrienne's. Everest gave her a lazy smile. She politely returned it with one of her own before redirecting her attention toward the Reapings on screen.

So far, it seemed as if her only true competition would be the Careers. Sure, there were some tributes from the other districts who put up a fight or a brave face, but there was a slim chance that any of them were trained and would be able to take her on in a one on one fight. The District Two tributes worried her the most, as their overly enthusiastic drive to kill would only get worse in the arena.

Adrienne turned her head toward Everest, analyzing him. He was nice, if not a bit too relaxed for the position they were in. He was tall and naturally skinny, but his years of training had caused him to bulk up enough that it was obvious. She had been somewhat friendly with him in training and knew that he was skilled with a sword and a bow and arrow. Everest had never struck her as the type to volunteer, but she supposed that she didn't come across that way either. Yet here they were.

He turned toward her with a small grin. "Hoping we'll be partners, Adrienne?" He questioned in a light-hearted manner.

"I've seen better prospects from the other districts." She spoke sharply, and from the look on his face, he hadn't understood that she was joking. Everest looked away uncomfortably and she knew she had wounded his pride, even though she hadn't meant to. Adrienne wish Royce was hear, as he would have understood her humor and kept up the banter. Unfortunately, it seemed that Everest wasn't very confident in his abilities and thought that she was serious.

Prosper and Luz, the two most recent Victors from District One, entered the room, arguing good naturedly about what they thought the arena might be this year. Adrienne eyed them curiously, wondering if they were as charming in real life as the girls in her training class had made them out to be.

Their conversation cut off abruptly when they acknowledged the tributes in the room. Prosper greeted them with a confident grin, rubbing his hands together excitedly. "Alright, two volunteers!"

His enthusiasm was contagious, and soon Everest was grinning again, looking up at his mentors with a slightly awestruck expression. Adrienne felt a sudden urge to rub tiredly at her face, but she kept her hands clasped tightly together across her knee.

Luz smirked and took a seat next to Everest. The twenty-something year old started up a conversation with the male tribute, asking him about his favorite weapon.

Prosper popped a cherry in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully while he looked at her. "You should keep up that whole 'Ice Queen' thing you got going. It suits you." He spoke through a mouthful of food, something that would have made her mother to reel back in disgust. Instead, Adrienne put on a sly smile.

"Charming and dangerous." She repeated Royce's advice, sending a wink in Prosper's direction. He laughed delightedly, seemingly happy with her response.

"Looks like were in good shape this year, Luz." Prosper called to his fellow victor, still munching on cherries. "Screw those District Seven kids." He referred to the back to back victories of Seven in the last two Hunger Games, a sour look on his face. Luz rolled his eyes, making a comment about the friendship between Prosper and one of District Seven's Victors, Luke. Prosper shrugged in response and exited the room, probably on the hunt for more food.

On the television, the District Twelve reaping was coming to an end. The Capitol seal flashed across the screen and the anthem blasted through the room for a few minutes before the recap of the Reaping began to play over again, starting from her district.

Critically, Adrienne examined herself as the on-screen version of her raised her hand and volunteered. She was pleased to see how confident and collected she appeared as she walked up to the stage. The first impression was the most important.

"You look like you have a stick up your ass." Luz pointed out with smirk, causing Everest to let out a bark of laughter. Adrienne bit her tongue, not wanting her humor to offend her mentor in anyway like it did Everest. Instead she chose to laugh along, unbothered. The two men gave her a grin, seeming to appreciate that she was confident enough in herself not to take them seriously.

The knot in her stomach loosened a bit. She didn't need their approval in order to win, but it would be nice to have their support. All she had to do now was win over the Capitol and she would be well on her way to victory.

 **Chapter Question: If _you_ were a tribute in these Games, who would you want as your partner? (I find all of your answers always so interesting xD)**


	10. Opening Ceremony Pt 1 - Alvy Morganton

**A/N: As *cough cough David* has subtly pointed out by mentioning my quick update speed, I haven't had much of a life recently because I hurt my knee and haven't been able work and stuff lately. I'm pretty much better now, though, and life is becoming busy again, so updates won't be as fast as they were but still quick I promise bc I'm desperate to write down all of my ideas xD**

 **Once again thanks for those who have reviewed! I love reading your opinions on the tributes and I'm so so so excited to see your reactions to the partners.**

 **Thanks to Taylor1103 for Alvy! When I first started _A Victor's Ally_ (IN JANUARY OF 2014 WOW), Taylor was one of my first and only reviewers. Over three years later and Taylor is still here lol so that's pretty cool. **

Alvy Morganton, 15, District 3

This _sucked_. It was bad enough that he was reaped for the Hunger Games – which is probably the worst thing that could happen to someone – but now he was being forced to sit still while a group of colorful, chatty Capitol freaks scrubbed his skin raw and attacked his eyebrows with some sharp metal thing.

"Ouch." He grumbled, his lips turning down in his usual scowl. His prep team didn't react, used to ignoring his complaints and empty threats by now. They had been at it for a few hours, and to be honest, he was kind of offended. Sure, he couldn't afford much, but he still _bathed._ Was he really that dirty that they needed to scrub him for hours on end?

Finally, they stepped away from him with proud expressions on their plastic features. Moments later, his stylist stepped into the room holding something black in his arms.

"Hello, I'm Silas. You're Alvy, right? Nice to meet you." Silas gave him a wide, friendly smile that made Alvy's scowl deepen. It was in fact, not very nice to meet Silas, as they would never have met if it weren't for the Games. Feeling that the question about his name was rhetorical, Alvy stayed silent and watched his stylist from narrowed eyes.

Silas' smile faltered, but he kept up the charade anyway. "Are you nervous for the Parade?"

Alvy scoffed. Why hadn't Silas gotten the hint that he wasn't interested in small talk?

"No." He grumbled, not caring to elaborate. Standing upright on a Chariot didn't seem like too big of a deal compared to what else lie ahead of him. He was much more nervous about the interview, where he would have to pretend like he enjoyed conversing with Caesar. And of course, he was nervous about going into the arena. Who wasn't?

"How old are you?" Silas questioned, probably already knowing exactly how old he was.

"I'm fifteen." He mumbled again, refusing to say more than necessary. There was just one person in Panem that he actually enjoyed talking to, and that was his best friend, Matt. The only other people he could tolerate were his mother and his cousins, considering they had to coexist under the same roof.

To Alvy's relief, Silas finally gave up and handed him his Parade outfit. He held it up in front of him, examining the material with judgmental eyes. It was a thin, black body suit with brightly color wires dangling from the arms. He supposed the wires were supposed to look cool when he waved to the crowd, but he wasn't really planning on waving. Alvy stepped into the suit and pulled the material up over his chest, giving a grunt of approval as he examined himself in the mirror. He wasn't super buff- he was only fifteen and didn't do much exercise expect for throwing the occasional punch when provoked- but he wasn't super skinny. The body suit complimented him nicely, but he supposed he would still look like a small, easily squishable bug in comparison to the Career tributes from One, Two, and Four. The few fights he had gotten in at school probably paled in contrast with whatever the Careers did on a day to day basis as part of their training. He tried not to think about it, but he was a pessimist at heart, and it took everything in his power to stop imagining his death by the hands of a Career.

Bouncing excitedly on his toes, Silas thrust at him a colorful headpiece woven from wires. Alvy glowered at him, any hint of approval of his outfit gone from his features. He was going to look silly with this thing sticking out of his head. Reluctantly, he stuck the headpiece on top of his thick, shaggy hair that the prep team had mostly left alone. To Alvy's delight, they hadn't cut it, but they still gelled it back out of his face and made him look ridiculous.

He looked at himself in the mirror and scowled. He wasn't happy, but what else was new.

"Good luck." Silas nodded his goodbye and backed out of the room without another peep, but Alvy could see him biting hard on his lip in an effort not to say anything else.

An Avox entered the room as Silas was leaving. She motioned for Alvy to follow her, leading him through a series of white hallways until they reached an open room that held twelve chariots. Around half the tributes were already waiting in the room, talking to their district partners or mentors. Most were boys. Alvy suspected it was because it took a lot longer to get the girls ready. He had heard rumors that they were stripped of all their hair _everywhere_ except their heads. The fifteen-year-old shivered, looking down thankfully at his still-hairy legs.

His district partner Daphne stood next to their mentor, Hugo, a tall and skinny guy with big glasses and a nervous, twitchy smile. On the train, she had creeped him out a bit, muttering quietly to herself as she sat directly in front of the television screen and watched the Reaping recap play through twice, maybe even three times. Now, she was silent. Her gaze was calculating as her dark eyes skimmed over the tributes, but her slouched posture made her seem shy and unapproachable.

Not knowing what else to do with himself, Alvy headed their way, earning an awkward wave from his mentor. Neither he nor Daphne spoke as the remaining tributes filed into the room. Alvy pretended to ignore the fact that she had turned her analytical stare toward him, but he felt it burning through the side of his face.

It was time to board the chariots. It seemed odd this year that they were still separated by districts when Quell Twist would pair them up randomly, regardless of districts. Alvy guessed that the Gamemakers wanted to introduce the tributes to the Capitol first before they announced the pairs, probably trying to make it more dramatic. Still, it was clear that the parade was not necessarily highlighting districts this year. While each of the district partners' outfits complimented each other, they weren't identical like they had been previous years.

Daphne was wearing a black body suit like him ,except hers lacked the colorful wires that he had. He thought her outfit seemed extremely plain at first, but once the chariots started to get into formation, she bent down and flicked a switch on her boots that caused her to rise and hover in the air. His face once again twisted into a scowl as he looked up at his district partner in jealousy.

The tributes from One and Two were already on the move, waving to the crowd with big smiles on their faces. His chariot lurched once and they were off, Daphne waving shyly to the crowd with a meek smile on her face. He raised his hand and gave a stiff wave, trying to force a smile on his face, but it felt awkward and unnatural. Instead, he let his arm flop down at his side and stopped trying to hide the sour look on his face that just came naturally after all these years. _Oh well._ He did his best for a couple minutes, at least.

The parade seemed to drag on forever. He couldn't even use the time to get a glimpse of the other tributes, because all he could see were the backs of District Two's heads. When the chariot finally went full circle and pulled to a stop, he jumped off in relief. Daphne stepped down beside him, mumbling something under her breath. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, straining his ears to hear what she was saying, but she was too quiet.

The two of them and their mentor boarded the elevator without speaking. If there was one thing he was thankful for, it was that neither Daphne nor his mentor seemed keen on conversation, each of them loners in his or her own way. Unfortunately, they shared the elevator with the pair from District Six: a chatter-box twelve-year-old and a boy around his age who looked as if he was trying his best to appear interested in what she was saying. The boy caught his eye and Alvy's heart just about leapt to his throat. He looked a bit like Matt.

The chime of the elevator brought Alvy out of his stupor. Quickly, he followed behind Hugo and Daphne, not wanting to be left on the elevator. Hugo fumbled awkwardly with the key before finally opening the door, leading his tributes into a wide and lavish space.

Alvy's eyes widened almost comically. Next to him, Daphne bore the same expression.

"Alright, well, get some sleep. Tomorrow is the Partnering Ceremony and they want everyone ready early so things go as smoothly as possible." Hugo's voice was low and deep. Alvy would have been surprised if he hadn't already heard him talk on the train. It was odd that the voice was coming from Hugo, who was tall and gangly.

Hugo offered to show them to the rooms, but Daphne had already disappeared. It was almost as if she didn't realize they were there, and if it weren't for the sharp intelligence lurking behind her eyes, he would have thought that she truly didn't notice their presence.

Lurking moodily behind Hugo, Alvy made his way to his room, which turned out to be a more luxurious version of the one he slept in on the train. He rummaged through the drawers, looking for something comfy. After pulling on a loose t-shirt and baggy pants (made out of the softest material he had ever felt in his life), Alvy turned off the light and snuggled deep under the covers.

Nighttime was the only time Alvy allowed himself to get sentimental. When he was warm and sleepy, he found it difficult to find the energy to force away the thoughts that flooded his mind. He wished Matt were here to lay beside him and tell him that everything was going to be okay. Matt wasn't an optimist, but he wasn't a pessimist like Alvy. He was a realist. If he were here, he would probably acknowledge the fact that Alvy had a high chance of dying, but he would also list off all of Alvy's strengths and reasons why he could actually win if he tried. But Matt wasn't here, and there was nothing to keep Alvy's thoughts from taking a dark turn.

He hoped that the boy from Six wasn't his partner, mostly because he didn't want to be reminded of Matt every time he looked at him. It had only been a little over twenty-four hours, and he was already missing his best friend like crazy. He missed his mom, too. He was even missing his cousins, Tammy, Dalton, and Paige…

Alvy sucked in a deep breath, trying to fight back the tears that welled up behind his eyelids as he finally acknowledged the situation he was in. When his name had been called at the Reaping, he hadn't even been that upset. He was more in a daze, with some odd feeling of confidence mixed in. It wasn't until his goodbyes that reality had sunk in, but even then, he had pushed it aside so he could properly say goodbye to his family and Matt. He felt like he hadn't had a moment to truly think about it, uninterrupted, until now.

Of all the years to be reaped, this was probably the worst year for him. Other tributes probably liked having a designated ally, but Alvy would rather be left alone. He didn't want to have to talk to anyone or share his opinions about strategy. As long as his partner was quiet and competent, he could probably tolerate them, but luck was never on his side. His thoughts kept him up for a while, but the day's events finally caught up to him.

That night, Alvy dreamt that he was on his way back to District Three as a victor. When he stepped off the train, everyone was clapping and shouting his name. And there, in the middle of it all was Matt, a proud smile on his face and eyes filled with happiness.

 **Chapter Question: Which background character has been your favorite so far? (Friend or family member, other tribute, mentor, etc) (Can't be Isla or D6 pair since they won't be background characters in a few chapters haha)**


	11. Opening Ceremony Pt 2 - Paris Francis

**A/N: Two more chapters, guys! Keep reviewing the tributes, it's important for me to know your opinions on each of them :)**

 **Thanks to BabyRue11 for this adorable tribute.**

Paris Francis, 12, District Six

"I have a mom, a dad, and a brother." She beams at her stylist, Maximus, as he pulls at her hair, trying to get her natural, messy curls to stay in place. The older man smiles politely, nodding at his tribute.

"Then there's Zoe, Chares, Adoni," Paris ticks off each of her friends on her fingers, scrunching her face up in confusion when she only counts three. "Oh, and there's Falco. He's an artist."

Maximus continues to tug at her hair, weaving it into an intricate pile on the top of her head. His dark eyes met her bright blue ones and he smiled. "Are you an artist?" He questioned, hoping to keep her chatting long enough to keep her distracted from the real reason she was here.

"Oh, well, sort of." She squirmed in her seat, trying to find the right words. Maximus raised his eye brows in questioning.

"I'm not like, a painting kind of artist. I sing! And I love to act." Paris held her chin up proudly. "Last year I won this big singing contest in my District. It was awesome." Her eyes shone as she remembered how she felt standing on the stage as all her friends cheered for her. She imagined that's what it would feel like to win the Hunger Games.

Her stylist murmured his approval and smiled, but Paris failed to notice the sadness in his eyes. He finished with her hair and held out his arms, helping her step into her outfit for the parade.

"I'm a train conductor!" Paris gasps, twirling around in front of the mirror. She flung her arms around Maximus and he stumbled back, not expecting her to be as strong as she was. "Thanks, Max!"

They had a lot of time left before she was required to be by her chariot, so she settled down into one of the big chairs in her dressing room, swinging her legs back and forth above the floor.

Maximus settled down next to her, leaning back into the chair. "Tell me about your family, Paris."

Her smile faltered a bit, but she managed to keep it plastered on her face. She was going to miss her mother and her brother so much. It a little bit to think about them, but she remained hopeful that she would see them again soon. With a strong partner, Paris was optimistic about coming home. Sure, a twelve-year-old had never won the games before, but this was no ordinary Games. Besides, being negative wouldn't help anything.

"Well, my mom's name is Kiwi and she loves me a lot. My brother's name is Alexis and he's awesome."

"What about your father?" Maximus questioned, looking at her with a curious expression.

"He's addicted to morphing. And he's not very nice" She stated bluntly, causing Maximus' eyes to widen a bit. No use in beating around the bush. Paris frowned a bit, but perked up quickly. "It's okay, though, I have my mom and Alexis and all my friends."

Her stylist agreed, patting her shoulder as an Avox entered the room and signaled that it was time for her to leave. Paris jumped up and gave him one last hug before she followed the Avox out of the room. The hallways were so…bright and blinding. Paris felt like she was in a hospital. Finally, she emerged into the open area where twelve chariots were set up. When she saw that her district partner was also dressed as a train conductor, she bounded over to him excitedly.

"Wyatt!" She grinned, tugging on his sleeve to make him look down at her. Paris wasn't short, she considered herself 'average' for her age, but Wyatt was still taller than her at 5'6 and was very lanky. He looked down at her, a bit surprised at her sudden appearance.

"Look, we match!" She pointed between the two of them, earning a small smile from Wyatt.

"Yea, we look good." He nodded in agreement. Paris was hoping she could lean on him for support for the time being. Wyatt was only two years older than her, but she was so used to having an older brother figure in her life that she didn't know what to do without one. Before she could say anything else, her mentor pulled her to the side while Wyatt's mentor began to speak to him.

"Alright, Paris. I just need you to smile and act like you're happy to be here. And if you can, try and get a glimpse of the other tributes so you can recognize them in the arena. Can you do that for me?" Kiva crouched down so she was Paris' height, looking her straight in the eye with a somber expression. Paris nodded furiously.

"I can act." She said seriously, straightening her shoulders and readying herself.

Kiva allowed herself a small smile as she watched the twelve-year-old. "Smile and wave, okay? They'll love you."

Paris grinned, blushing a little at her mentor's confidence in her. She knew that Kiva probably wished that she were older, stronger, or maybe a little smarter, but her mentor had made it clear that she would do everything she could to bring Paris home. Having that support made the tiny flame of hope inside her burn a little brighter.

She stepped onto her chariot, and put a bright smile on her face. While she waited for Wyatt to finish his talk with his mentor, she turned around to look at the other tribute's costumes. She caught the eye of the tiny girl from Eleven and gave a small wave. The girl smiled shyly back but looked away quickly, causing Paris to be a bit disappointed. She was hoping she would have a partner that would be her friend. The arena would be unbearable if she was lonely.

The chariot slowly began to move. Paris turned around quickly. She hadn't even noticed that Wyatt had climbed up beside her. The cheering from the crowd grew louder as their chariot pulled out into the open. Paris smiled largely and waved excitedly to the crowd, putting on her best, friendly attitude. Her stomached churned nervously as she watched the odd looking Capitolites fly by, but she ignored the burning in her arm and stomach and continued to wave. Beside her, Wyatt was waving and smiling timidly. His mentor had probably told him the same thing that Kiva had told her. Actually, it seemed to Paris that all the tributes were waving to the crowd, except for a Career who stared stoically ahead and another girl who grinned slyly.

It wasn't until then that Paris had truly viewed the other tributes as _competition_ , and not just other people. Her usual cheery attitude deflated and it became much harder to keep up her excited charade. Forcing herself to look on the bright side, she noted that one of the tributes would _not_ be her competition and would instead be fighting to keep her alive.

The parade was longer than Paris expected, and she was holding back a yawn by the time they were in the elevator and on the way up to their apartment. She was in the middle of telling Wyatt about the song she sang for the competition she won last year when the elevator stopped on the third floor. She hadn't even realized that the four of them from District Six were sharing the elevator with the tributes from Three and their mentor. Paris felt guilty when she remembered that Kiva had asked her to observe the other tributes. If she didn't start paying more attention, she wouldn't know who any of the tributes were or whether they were a threat or not. Her story cut off abruptly, but Wyatt was lost in thought and didn't seem to notice.

When they reached the sixth floor, their escort Hestia led them inside in a flurry of blue and purple. Although she had heard the mentors saying that she was crazy, Paris thought that she was nice.

"Wyatt, Paris, it would be best for you to get some sleep now." Kiva spoke with finality, so Paris dropped all argument and slowly trudged toward the hallway. She was almost to her room when Hestia called out.

"Paris, dear, please do your best to keep your room tidy this time. The room on the train looked as if a tornado hit it." Hestia sighed dramatically, causing Paris to blush. She had been so excited about all the clothes in the drawers that she couldn't help but take them all out and examine them.

Unable to hold it back this time, Paris let out a huge yawn. Kiva laughed and grabbed her shoulder's, steering her toward her designated room. Her mentor bid her goodnight and shut the door, leaving Paris alone in the huge room. Paris eyed the dresser, but she did as her escort asked and refrained from taking everything out of its drawers. Instead, she made her way to the floor-length mirror and examined herself. The navy of her outfit complimented her slightly darker skin well, and it was the first time her hair was styled and not in its usually wild curls. She liked the way it looked when it was all piled on top of her head.

"Hello Caesar. It's very nice to meet you." She did her best curtsy in front of the mirror. Her voice sounded tired, so she tried the line again with a bit more confidence. In her mind, she played out a dialogue with the man who would be interviewing her in a few days.

"Am I nervous for the arena?" She paused, pretending to think for a moment before answering. "I am, I guess, but I know that as long as I have my partner by my side I'll be okay." She responded to herself, analyzing her face in the mirror to make sure her expression remained open and hopeful. Satisfied with herself for now, Paris finally changed into the pajamas laid out for her and turned out the lights.

It was weird to be alone in such a large room. She was used to sharing a room half this size with her brother. Paris decided that even though her room at home was smaller, she liked it better. It was nice knowing that Alexis was close as she fell asleep. It made her feel safe. Now, Alexis was about a million miles away and although tonight Paris was technically safe, she wouldn't be for long.

 **Chapter Question: Do you think your tribute would be better off with or without a partner in the arena?**


	12. Opening Ceremony Pt 3 - Isla Ray

**A/N: One more tribute left! That chapter, as well as the big partner reveal (oooo), will both be up with in the next week, if not within the next few days. I hope the length of the chapters aren't too long or too short. I don't want to bore you with all the introduction chapters, but I also want them to be long enough that I can develop each character and give a big focus on each (which is why I'm only writing 12 tributes). Let me know if there's anything you want me to do differently when we start getting into the training and interview chapters.**

 **I hope that everyone who submitted is still following along! I have a lot of good plans for the arena so I'm hoping you'll all stick around to see how your tribute does!**

 **Thanks to withlipstickasmywarpaint for Isla!**

Isla Ray, 17, District 4

"Thank you so much, Calypso." Isla smiled genuinely at her stylist. She was wearing a dark blue dress that swirled around her feet, making her look as if she was literally wearing the ocean. Her curly hair was braided over her shoulder as usual, but Calypso had woven it so intricately that Isla touched the braid in awe.

"You look beautiful." The woman nodded, lowering her head in respect. Isla felt the urge to hug her, but an Avox was already ushering her toward the door. She had to quicken her pace to keep up with the boy's abnormally long strides. When she reached the chariot area, she saw why they had been rushing. Isla was one of the last tributes to arrive, and everyone was already getting into their chariots.

Aenon was standing in their chariot, which was decked out to look like the ocean. His merman costume highlighted his broad chest, muscled from years of training. Her heart skipped a beat when he turned his dark eyes on hers. No, she definitely was not over her crush.

She walked carefully in her heels, balancing her coral headdress with one hand and holding up her skirt with the other. Aenon reached out a hand and helped her into the chariot, causing her to fight back a blush. He was a year older than her and didn't train with her at the Academy, so he probably barely recognized her. Her crush was mostly physical, as they never really had a conversation, but she couldn't keep her eyes from drifting toward him.

Isla knew why he had volunteered - the whole district knew. He put on a stoic act, but he was pretty much an open book, so it was easy to tell that he was upset about going into the arena. The fact that he would go through all of this for his sister was very admirable. Isla wished he wasn't going to be her opponent in the arena. There was still a chance they would be paired together, but the chances were slim.

As their chariot moved toward its spot in line, she looked up at her district partner. "You look nice." She smirked, looking toward his scaly legs. She was being honest, but the hint of humor in her voice caused Aenon to scoff.

"If I fall, I'm screwed. My legs are literally stuck together." His voice still sounded guarded, but the fact that he responded to her at all made her smile grow wider. "You look nice, too." He added grudgingly, his eyes flicking quickly over her dress before he turned his gaze straight again.

Isla thanked him, biting her lip to reign in her smile. Maybe he would warm up to her, after all. Partner or not, he would be a valuable ally in the arena.

The chariot ahead of them had just pulled out into the crowd. The cheers grew as the Capitolites caught sight of the levitating girl from Three. Isla straightened up and put on her most charming smile. She hadn't volunteered for this, but she would act as if she had.

By the time their chariot had completed the loop, her feet were covered in bouquets and her arm was burning from waving for so long. She carefully stepped off the chariot, gripping onto the side for support so her ankles didn't twist. The throbbing in her feet was worth complaining about, but she didn't want to look weak, especially in front of Aenon and her mentors.

There was no pretending that she was physically a strong Career. While she was toned, Isla clearly lacked the brute strength of the average Career from Districts One or Two. She preferred running as a workout and had only entered the academy to train with weapons because it was a common pastime in their district. It was an opportunity to spend time with her friends while also preparing for the worst: being reaped. But even if she wasn't the strongest Career, she still had a leg up over most of the other tributes. This was the reason why she had trained.

Before she could say anything to Aenon, he had left her side to find his mentor. The eighteen-year-old had made it clear that he wanted to train separate, and while she was a little offended, she shrugged it off as if it was no big deal. She understood that he didn't want any attachments in the arena, but she wished he was open to an alliance. Watching his retreating figure, she stayed in place, waiting for Bay. Her mentor was headed toward her, his face impassive.

"How did I do?" She questioned, already knowing she did well by the amount of flowers at her feet. Bay nodded at her, approval in his eyes. He didn't talk much, but he had given her pretty good advice. While Aenon would probably play the stoic and determined angle, Bay wanted her to be as charming and flirtatious as possible. It wouldn't be much of a stretch for her at all and it would definitely earn her sponsors in the Capitol.

Ahead of them, Aenon and Finn were boarding the elevator. Finn was waving his arms around in the air, talking animatedly about something. Aenon nodded, hanging on to his mentor's every word. More tributes had were crowding into the elevator, so Isla and Bay hung back. She peeled her eyes off of Aenon as the doors shut, turning toward her mentor instead.

"Having a Career background is definitely going to be an advantage," Bay began, talking quietly so they weren't overheard by the other tributes waiting. "But, training in Four does have its drawbacks."

"What do you mean?" She cocked her head to the side in curiosity.

"In Four, they train you to fight. In One and Two, they train you to kill." Isla nodded along, already knowing this. Most of those who entered academy didn't train to volunteer, so training was mostly learning how to attack or defend themselves if they were in the arena.

"That's what the problem is. You're trained to fight honorably, but most won't acknowledge that. The other Careers and some of the other tributes won't hesitate to put a knife in your back or slit your throat while you're sleeping."

Isla knew he was right. She had no qualms about killing - her sense of self-preservation was stronger than her morality. But it just didn't sit right in her stomach to think about stabbing an ally in the back. Everything Bay said was true. She knew how to work with weapons and was an expert at self-defense, but in Four, winning a sparring match was getting the best of your opponent, not landing a fatal blow. Up until now, Isla hadn't realized that it was so much different than fighting to kill.

They finally boarded the elevator. There were no other tributes riding with them, so they were able to continue the conversation.

"You need to change your mentality. You need to fight dirty." Bay's voice remained quiet, but he spoke with authority that Isla couldn't argue with.

"Is Finn telling Aenon this?" She didn't know why she cared. An image of herself slitting Aenon's throat in his sleep made her stomach turn. She wouldn't do that to Aenon out of respect for their shared district, no matter what advice Bay gave her, but the acknowledgement that she may have to do that to another tribute strengthened her resolve. She would do whatever it took to come home.

Bay shook his head, dismissing her question. "Maybe, but it doesn't matter. My concern is you."

 _Ding._

The elevator ride was short, as they had only gone up four floors, but her conversation with Bay was worth her life. She opened the door to their apartment, not surprised to see Aenon and Finn in deep discussion at the dining table. Isla felt bad for interrupting, but an idea had seeded itself in her mind. She sat down across from her district partner, cutting him off mid-sentence. All three men looked at her expectantly.

"I think we should push for a Career pack this year."

Bay and Finn raised their eyebrows in surprise while Aenon looked at her like she was crazy.

"A Career pack? You do realize we're all going to be paired with someone, right? It wouldn't just be six in the alliance anymore, it would be twelve. That's half the tributes!" He raised his voice indignantly, cutting her off before she could continue. She matched his angry stare with a calm one of her own. Isla had been expecting this reaction.

"There's a decent chance that two Career's will be paired together. Also, I'm not sure that all the Career's would even join, meaning the number won't be huge."

Finn opened his mouth to respond, but Isla held up a pleading hand, wanting to finish before they all began to talk over her. She kept her gaze on Aenon, addressing him rather than the mentors.

"Think about how much stronger we would be, Aenon. Especially if one of us gets paired with a younger tribute. It would keep the other Careers from going after our partners during the bloodbath, at least, if they were included in the alliance. I think it's silly to overlook how much stronger we would be in a larger group."

Realistically, she wasn't expecting her mentors or Aenon to agree. She knew it wasn't a good plan; such a large alliance would have way too many complications and be too dangerous. But by aiming high, Isla hoped that he would be more willing to form a smaller alliance with her and her partner.

Bay and Finn looked thoughtful, but Aenon still looked as if he wouldn't budge. Fortunately, he remained silent for a few seconds, so Isla took that as a good sign. Maybe he was thinking about what she had said.

"It wouldn't last, it would break up too easily." Aenon rubbed at his forehead, looking as if the conversation was physically paining him. "If half the tributes are in an alliance, the numbers will dwindle down extremely quickly, and we would all turn on each other within a day."

He was right, of course, but she already knew that. Shooting for what she really wanted, she reached out across the table and place her hand over his clenched fist.

"At least consider an alliance with me." She spoke smoothly, holding his gaze confidently. When he hesitated, she spoke up again. "It's going to be hard watching your partner's back the entire time. If they get killed, you get killed. It would make it easier, at least, to have two other people watching you and your partner's back."

Aenon sighed and pulled back his hand, running it through his hair. She could see in his eyes the mental battle that was occurring in his mind. "I'll think about it, okay?"

"Thank you." Her smile lit up her face. This was as much as she was going to get from him right now, and it went better than she thought it would. He was a naturally untrusting person, but she knew how loyal he was to his friends and family. If she could just earn his trust, he would be an extremely valuable ally in the arena.

He stood up abruptly from the table, his chair making a loud scraping noise as he pushed it backwards across the hardwood floors. Finn looked at her curiously before following his tribute out of the kitchen.

Bay made a noise in the back of his throat that almost sounded like laughter. Isla caught his eye and shrugged. "I never wanted a Career pack, really, I was just hoping that if I aimed big he might agree to a smaller alliance with me."

Her mentor nodded, a thoughtful expression smoothing over his features. "Why an alliance with him? I'm sure you could find someone else to agree. Maybe your partner's district partner."

She shook her head. "You were right about those who train in District Four. I trust him. He won't put a knife in my back."

Bay nodded slowly, choosing not to respond with words, and Isla didn't care to elaborate. The two sat in silence at the table, staring almost wistfully out the large window at the twinkling lights of the Capitol.

 **Chapter Question: Would you guys rather see Luke or Juliet's POV next? (I'll probably just do both anyway I just love them too much)**


	13. Opening Ceremony Pt 4 - Wyatt Buckler

**A/N: LAST TRIBUTE YAYYYY! Partnering Ceremony will be up next! I hope everyone is still reading and following along with their tributes! Thanks to everyone who continues to review, you guys are da best**

 **Thanks to Elim9 for Wyatt!**

Wyatt Buckler, 14, District 6

As the middle child of eight children, he spent most of his fourteen years blending into the background and following along with everyone else. Suddenly, he was thrust into the spotlight with twenty-three others who were all trying to compete for the Capitol's attention. He looked himself up and down in the mirror, wondering if the flashy train conductor costume would catch the eye of the Capitolites or if he would be overshadowed. Wyatt actually hoped it was the latter.

"Do you like it?" His stylist questioned him eagerly, her face earnest as she waited for him to answer.

"Uhh," He paused, taken off guard. Wyatt couldn't remember the last time that someone had asked him for his opinion. The outfit was a little stiff and he found it slightly difficult to move his arms, but he didn't want to make a fuss. He could tell that Shirley was waiting for his approval, so he gave her a timid smile and told her what she wanted to hear. "I like it, thanks."

Shirley beamed and clapped her hands excitedly, raving about how cute he would look next to his District Partner. He let her take his hand and pull him out of the room, quickening his pace to keep up with her. She should have been his height, around 5'6'', but her tall heels made her tower over him. He wasn't quite sure how she could walk so quickly in those things and was relieved he would never have to find out.

He was only standing awkwardly amongst the other tributes for a few minutes before he was hit with a giant ball of energy in the form of his district partner.

"Wyatt!" He stumbled back a bit, surprised at her sudden appearance. She was sweet, but her constant cheerfulness was a bit off-putting. She reminded him of one of his younger sisters, Marsha, except Marsha was only nine-years-old and wasn't facing probable death at the moment.

She smiled wide, looking at him with bright eyes. "We match!"

He looked at her smaller conductor costume that was almost identical to his and couldn't help but smile. "Yea, we look good." He nodded, his attention shifting to their mentors as they waved them over. Wyatt gave Paris a nudge toward Kiva, her mentor, before walking up to his. Sav was in his thirties and had won his Games at fifteen, giving Wyatt hope that a fourteen-year-old like him could stand a chance, especially with the Quell twist. He didn't really care who his partner was, he was just happy to have an automatic ally in the arena who would help keep him alive.

Sav cleared his throat, getting down to business. "I was thinking about what the best angle is for you. I think the best angle for you to play is fun and comedic. So, when you get out there, just smile big and wave to the crowd. Does that sound good?"

Wyatt shrugged, glad that Sav came up with some sort of strategy for him. If it were up to Wyatt, he wouldn't have been able to come up with anything on his own. Growing up, he was never given much of a choice about anything, so he wasn't used to speaking his opinion. He didn't really want to be 'fun' or 'comedic', but it wasn't as if he had anything better. All Wyatt knew was that he would give anything to be back home with his family and friends and out of this nightmare. He had never been so sure of anything in his life - but that wasn't saying much.

"Yeah, whatever works for me." He agreed quietly, earning a pat on the back from Sav.

"Go get 'em, kiddo." Sav gave him a tiny shove in the direction of the chariot. Paris had already been helped up and was using this time to wave to the other tributes. He felt a pit form in his stomach as he watched her. She worked hard to keep up the happy façade- he had heard her crying on the train when they were on their way to the Capitol. But what good would it do her in the Games? He half hoped that they would be partners, so her death wouldn't mean his survival, but both he and she would be better off with stronger partners.

He managed to climb into the chariot seconds before it started moving. Before he could even get himself positioned comfortably, he was in front of an infinite number of people, all screaming with glee and throwing gifts at the tributes. A bouquet landed next to his foot, causing him to break out of his stupor and remember his mentor's instructions. He waved to the crowds, trying his best to present a confident smile. They were moving for so long that his thoughts began to drift.

It seemed like it was a life time ago that he said goodbye to his family, but it had really only been around twenty-four hours. All nine of them had squished into the tiny room – his seven siblings, mother, and father – and surrounded him with a massive amount of love. His two younger sisters, Marsha and little six-year-old Phoebe, weren't much help. They didn't want to see him sad, so they assured him that everything was fine, but everyone else in the room knew that it wasn't. One of his older sisters, Isabelle, was sobbing so hard that Wyatt was honestly shocked. The two of them had never had the best relationship – while he was quiet, she had a big mouth, and while she was strong and would never let anyone walk over her, Wyatt ceased to ever speak his mind. She did her best to hug him through her tears, telling him that he needed to stand up for himself if he wanted to survive the arena.

" _Maybe you should take a page from my book, before your big mouth gets you into trouble."_

He remembered joking half-heartedly, only causing her to cry harder into his shoulder. He was oddly touched by the reaction of his siblings, but the circumstances were definitely not ideal.

Wyatt wanted to hold on to the image of his family as long as possible, but it was already starting to go fuzzy and the cheers of the crowd were almost impossible to block out. It truly hit him them that he would probably never see them again. He stepped off the chariot in a daze, almost feeling as if he was floating across the room and into the elevator. Paris was chatting beside him and he nodded absentmindedly, pretending to listen. He was still desperately trying to hold on to the image of his family, all gathered together in support for him. Grasping at straws, he tried to conjure up an image of his closest friend, Duncan.

Duncan had always been better off than Wyatt, so he never truly understood the fear of having his name in the bowl countless times due to tesserae or had to worry about one of his siblings being reaped. Wyatt had always been resentful of this, but it all seemed so trivial now. He would do anything to be back in Six with his friend, joking around in their class room or hanging out on the weekends, when Wyatt didn't have to be at his job in one of the many factories of District Six.

Wyatt barely noticed the lavishness of the apartment. Kiva instructed them to get some sleep, and he obeyed her without second thought. Sleep sounded _very_ good at the moment. He thought back to Isabelle's advice, that he needed to stand up for himself, and thought that he should probably tell his mentor that he wouldn't be able to pull off a happy and comedic façade. He wasn't much of a joker, preferring to laugh along with others rather than be the one supplying the humor. If he tried to joke with Caesar, it would probably fall flat and make him look worse.

He made a note to tell Sav this, but he figured it could wait until the morning. In the meantime, all Wyatt wanted to do was curl up under the covers and hope he would wake up in District Six. He wanted to go back to his average job, average grades, and average life. He didn't mind that his life was a little boring. The Hunger Games was made to chew him up and spit him out, most likely not alive. Maybe he could get far, if he kept to himself enough that everyone would forget that he was even a tribute.

He hoped that his partner was older, preferably more experienced. Wyatt wouldn't argue if they decided to take the reins, telling him what he needed to do in order to survive. If he needed to step up to the plate he probably could, but he found that life was easier when he kept his opinions to himself.

Wyatt wished that he could put the Games off as long as possible, stay awake so that sleep wouldn't make tomorrow come any faster, but his eyes were shutting on their own accord. Besides, Isabelle would probably tell him that he shouldn't avoid his problems. He smiled slightly to himself, wondering if her advice would extend so far as to tell him not to avoid his imminent death. Probably not. On the contrary, his family would probably tell him to face the Games head on and do everything he could to come home.

The problem was, twenty-three other tributes were preparing to do the same thing.

 ** _Chapter Question: WHO'S EXCITED FOR THE GAMES TO START AYYYEEE_**


	14. Partnering Ceremony

**A/N: So the past couple days, a LOT of disappointing things have been happening to me and I've been super bummed out, so I'm sorry if the quality of writing isn't up to par because I've been upset and certainly lacking inspiration and motivation lol. But I've had this chapter started for a while so I forced myself to finish this!**

 **PLEASE READ THIS FIRST: I put so much time and thought into pairing these tributes, like you have no idea. If you're upset by your tribute's partner or was hoping for someone else, please don't be too disappointed! I promise each of these pairings will have plenty of development and plot arcs in the story and I hope you'll like the direction I take them in.**

 **More information about each pairing will be at the bottom of this chapter, but I can't give too much away.**

 **And now, the chapter you've all been waiting for!**

Luke, 19, Victor of the 98th Hunger Games

The Partnering Ceremony was set to take place on the same stage as the interviews. It was some time in the afternoon; Luke didn't pay much attention to time in the Capitol, he was always directed when and where to go that he didn't need to rely on the clock.

The lights in the massive auditorium were harsh, lighting up the mentors, stylists, escorts, sponsors, and lucky citizens that milled around the room, trying to find their seats before Caesar and the tributes took the stage.

For the first time ever, Luke was not carrying around an envelope in his pocket that dictated a time and place he was supposed to be. He was sat in one of the plush seats near the stage, bouncing his leg up and down as the rest of the audience filled in. It was weird for him not to feel the crisp paper when he reached into his jacket pocket and he kept looking around suspiciously, half-expecting an Avox to come rushing over with a sealed envelope in hand.

He'd been on edge the entire month. Luke was expecting to be called into the Capitol at any moment, but one week went by with no word from the President. Then two weeks. Then three. He tried his hardest not to get his hopes up, but he couldn't contain the feeling of bliss that expanded in his chest with every Appointment-free day that went by. It wouldn't last- it never did – but he would enjoy it while it lasted.

A flash of deep purple swooped by him, stepping over his outstretched legs in order to get to the seat next to him. Juliet flopped down beside him with a sigh. His blue eyes studied her, trying to find his best friend beneath the dark make-up and tight dress. She fidgeted in her seat and glared back fiercely, a typical look for her, but he knew there was no real menace in her gaze.

"Is it bad that it just occurred to me that we're going to have to work with mentors from the other districts?" She grinned at him, but her tone was humorless. On the outside, Juliet looked very put together, but her eyes were flitting around the room frantically and she was on edge. She shifted anxiously, digging her long and manicured nails into her thigh.

He grabbed her hand, stopping her before she drew blood. "What's up with you?"

They both knew that there was plenty going on in their messed-up lives, but he had never seen her like this. After the Games Juliet had reached her breaking point and shut down, facing her new reality head on but leaving herself behind in the process. Even then, she had never been as jumpy and high-strung as she was at the moment.

Juliet's hand remained limp in his, but she made no move to pull away. She took one more look around the room before meeting his eyes and shrugging. "I'm just really nervous about mentoring."

Luke could understand that. For his first year as a mentor, he had to watch Juliet in the arena while trying to deal with the guilt and nightmares that came along with his victory. Although nothing could beat his traumatic mentoring experience last year, Juliet was still in a tough situation. This year was the quell, and Cleo wasn't exactly the easiest tribute to deal with. After her outburst at the Reaping she had surprised both Luke and Juliet by seeming relatively normal, but there was still something off-putting about her. He was happy that his tribute, Stone, was eager to take his advice and learn from him. If he was paired with a strong tribute, Luke was hoping that he would have a high chance of coming back alive.

He accepted Juliet's explanation grudgingly, but he didn't have time to question her further. The lights dimmed and the stage lit up as Caesar walked out, looking peppy as ever despite his age.

"Welcome to the Partnering Ceremony of the 100th Annual Hunger Games!" A cheer rose up from the audience as the camera began to pan over the crowd, showing everyone's favorite victors and stylists. Luke grimaced and dropped Juliet's hand as if it had burned him, reluctantly clapping along as the camera stopped on them. He kept his gaze trained straight ahead, but he could feel her fists clenched tightly at her sides as she smiled wide.

"Tonight, twenty-four tributes will now be twelve teams of two! In the exciting twist for the fourth quell, each tribute will be randomly paired with another tribute and their lives will be linked." Caesar through his hands out dramatically, causing another thundering applause.

"Let's bring out the tributes!"

There were twenty-four chairs set up on one side of the stage and twelve tiny couches on the other. The District One female took the stage first, the rest following behind in order of district. She walked with her chin held high, gracefully taking her place in the first of the chairs. Once all the tributes had been seated, a bowl filled with thin slips of paper was brought out onto the stage. It was almost as if they were trying to horrify the tributes by mimicking a reaping. From the looks on their faces, it was working. He felt Juliet tense beside him as Caesar reached into the clear bowl and he grabbed her hand again, hoping that his action would be hidden in the darkness.

Caesar explained that he would pick out one name out of a hat and the one that followed would be his or her partner. He wasted no time in reaching in and pulling out a slip of paper, smoothing it out between his hands.

"Durian Rodgers, District Eleven," A small and scrawny kid of around thirteen stood up, trembling. "And… Jakob Quinn, District Two!"

A hulking boy stood up from his spot toward the front, annoyance clear on his brutish features. It was obvious that the Career was not excited about being paired with a tiny tribute from the outer districts, but the two made their way over to the first couch, sitting as far apart as possible.

"Onto the next!" Caesar quieted down the crowd, holding a finger up to his lips and raising and eyebrow. "Next we have…Adrienne Villiers, District One, with Charity Falls, District Eleven!" Charity stood and gave her partner a timid smile. The volunteer from District One regarded her with an impassive expression, appearing neither upset nor pleased with the thirteen-year-old. The audience was cheering even louder, seemingly excited at the prospect of two careers being paired with smaller, weaker tributes.

"Stone Izar, District Seven," Luke held his breath as his tributes name was announced. Juliet gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as Caesar examined the next slip. "…and Eva Helton, District Five! A spunky girl stood up from her seat, grinning at Stone. She was small and looked young, but her attitude and the way she carried herself made her seem older. Luke made a mental note to find out how old she was. Stone gave her a nod and took his seat beside her on the third couch.

"Aenon Monroe, District Four, and Calliar Brinstone, District Twelve!" A broad-shouldered girl stood up from the second to last seat, crossing her arms defensively as Aenon looked her up and down. He kept his face neutral, but Calliar narrowed her eyes at him, as if daring him to look displeased about being paired with her. Luke assumed the Career from four wouldn't be too happy about being paired with a fifteen or sixteen-year-old from Twelve, but at least Calliar looked muscular and had some spunk to her.

"Colt Channing, District Ten, and Atom Chase, District Five!" The crowd swooned as the two tiny boys stood up, but Luke's heart sank. The two boys were easily the tiniest tributes this year and he wouldn't be surprised if they were the youngest. He didn't see how the two of them would be able to survive the arena.

"Everest Mason, District One, with Kohl Carbone, District Twelve!" The handsome boy from One stood, giving Kohl a polite and slightly awkward grin. The seventeen-year-old from Twelve scrunched up his face in return, looking as if he was about to throw a tantrum. The Career's smile fell and he sat down rigidly on the couch next to the other boy.

"Now we have Isadora Juno, District Two, and…" Caesar fumbled with the second slip, causing it to flutter slowly to the floor before he could catch it. Isadora stood up abruptly, hands on her hips and grinning wildly. The remaining tributes sat wide-eyed, each seeming to sink down further into their seats in hope that their name wouldn't be called next.

"And Isla Ray, District Four!" Caesar finally retrieved the slip off the ground, laughing off his embarrassment. Isla stood up and took her place beside Isadora. She was smiling, but Luke couldn't tell if she was happy about her partner or if she just had a good poker face. Either way, the two trained tributes together would be a pair to watch out for.

Caesar waited for the applause to die down before picking the next slip. It seems that Isadora and Isla were popular tributes this year, and the audience was excited about their pairing.

"Lea Bobbin, District Eight, and Burton Rollins, District Eight!" That applause got louder as both District Eight tributes stood up, looking extremely happy about being paired with their district partner. It would be a huge advantage to them in the arena, and they were both older and looked relatively capable. Luke would try to remember to tell Stone that they were another pair to be wary of.

"Clementine Zaira, District Seven, and Wyatt Buckler, District Six!" Juliet's tribute stood up, giving Wyatt a toothy grin. The boy from District Six tried to smile, but his lanky frame looked a little awkward as he shuffled across the stage next to Cleo. The two of them were an interesting pair appearance wise. Cleo was taller than Wyatt and was much more exotic looking, with almond eyes, big lips, and dark olive skin. The latter was very skinny, with pale skin, light hair, and pale blue eyes. He couldn't tell if Juliet was pleased or disappointed by Juliet's choice in partner, but at least Wyatt seemed sane.

"Julian Amaryliss, District Nine," A very short boy stood up, but Luke could tell by his stature that he was at least fourteen. He had a casual, mischievous grin on his face, but from the way that he kept glancing at the remaining tributes, it was clear that he was nervous about who his life would be tied to.

"And…Daphne Aurora Yorkshire, District Three!" Caesar held the slip further away from his face, scrunching his features together as he read out the long name. Luke assumed that name would have belonged to someone like the girl from District One, who oozed properness and a 'high society' attitude, but instead a tall and thin girl stood, her small features making her look younger than she probably was. She gave Julian a nod and looked him up and down, making the boy shift uncomfortably. She was biting her lip harshly, looking as if she was trying extremely hard to refrain from saying something. They sat down on their couch, leaving only two remaining.

"Only two pairs remain!" Caesar gestured to the four tributes still in their chairs: a tall and lanky girl with thick glasses, a scowling boy, a tiny girl with a bright smile, and a button-nosed girl who looked the most well fed out of all the tributes on stage besides the careers, so she must have come from a well-off family.

"Our second to last pairing is…" Caesar reached into the bowl, struggling to pick out two slips. "Mazie Harvey, District Nine, and Sable Hennig, District Ten!" The two girls stood up, assessing each other.

"That leaves our final tributes, Alvy Morganton, District Three, and Paris Francis, District Six!" The crowd screamed as the twelve-year-old girl stood up excitedly, grinning at the boy and rushing over to her spot on the couch. The boy's scowl loosened and his face bore an expression of pure disbelief, looking as if he'd just been told he was destined to die. With the tiny girl as his partner, he probably was.

"There you have it! Our twelve pairs for the 100th Hunger Games and Fourth Quarter Quell!" The crowd was cheering so loud that it almost drowned out Caesar's booming voice. "In just five days' time, these twenty-four tributes will be entering the arena! Who will be victorious?"

"I'm Caesar Flickerman, and this concludes our evening. Have a good night!"

The tributes were ushered off stage and the lights were raised, causing Luke to blind a few times to adjust his eyes. He looked over at Juliet who was staring down at her hands, twisting them nervously in her lap.

"We should go meet up with our tributes and the other mentors backstage. There's a lot to discuss." He sighed, running a hand through messy hair, a move that Juliet always used to tease him about.

She looked up, giving Luke a fleeting smile before jumping out of her seat. "No, I have to go, I'll see you tomorrow." She practically tripped over her feet as she rushed hurriedly out of the auditorium, leaving Luke staring confusedly at the seat she had just abandoned.

 **OK SO here's my little tidbit on each pair and I hope it gives you a little more explanation about why I paired them? But also probably not because I don't want to give anything away oops**

 **Adrienne and Charity- Really can't say much about these too without giving away my plans for them. I feel like they're kind of unexpected, not really sure. Adrienne was the toughest for me to pair up, because there were so many different directions I could take her and I wasn't sure what I wanted to do**

 **Aenon and Calliar- ok wow it was hilarious when David and mukkou said they thought they would be the worst together because they were the first two tributes I was positive that I was going to pair together. They might be a disaster, they might not. You'll just have to see**

 **Isadora and Isla- tbh these girls are gunna be BAMF in the arena and I'm going to have so much fun writing their interactions**

 **Cleo and Wyatt- lmao I don't even know what I say about these two, you'll just have to wait and see how they play out. Just know that I'm excited**

 **Julian and Daphne- ok so these were the second tributes I had paired, before I even introduced Daphne (I told you I've been thinking about this for a very very long time) And then all the sudden y'all thought they would be great together and tbh I almost switched them because I didn't want them to be expected or an obvious pairing. I tried my hardest to pair Julian up with someone else but I just couldn't bear to break these two up, so there you have it.**

 **Alvy and Paris- the grumpiest tribute with the cheeriest tribute. My two cinnamon rolls combined into one. love it**

 **CHAPTER QUESTION: THOUGHTS ON ALL THE PAIRINGS? WHOS UR FAV WHOS UR LEAST FAV WHO DO U THINK IS A RECIPE FOR DISASTER AND WHO DO U THINK WILL PROSPER?**


	15. Training Day 1 Pt 1- Aenon Monroe

**A/N: I've been trying to upload this chapter all day but for some reason my internet kept acting up! Here it is, finally. I apologize if this chapter might feel a bit rushed, I was super busy last week and will be again this week so I tried my hardest to finish this when I had the time. Here is our first look at the Aenon/Calliar pairing, I think its hilarious how you all think it's going to be a disaster. But who knows?**

 **Also a huge thank you for 100 reviews! That's literally insane to me, its almost three times the amount I had on my previous story. I absolutely love reading all of your reviews and hearing your opinions on the tributes, it definitely inspires me to write more.**

Aenon Monroe, 18, District 4

 _You've got to be kidding._ He'd been paired with _Twelve_. The only thing worse than being paired with the girl would have been being paired with her District partner, a boy who has had loud complaints flying from his mouth every time Aenon saw him. He felt a twinge of sympathy for the District One boy who'd been paired with him. When Aenon saw them after the Pairing Ceremony, Everest had a horror stricken look on his face as he tried – and failed – to get a word in over the boy's complaining.

Aenon's partner, Calliar, was standing with her arms crossed by the door of the training center, glaring at an unknown spot on the wall. He wanted to talk to her, work out some sort of strategy for the arena, but on second thought, he definitely didn't. They had spoken briefly last night, which ended with her angrily jabbing her finger into his chest and being pulled away by Kora, her mentor. She seemed equally as unhappy as him, which he didn't really understand - she should be happy to be paired with someone strong and trained, right? Instead she was bitter and resentful, and Aenon figured that she wouldn't have been happy no matter who her partner was.

The first day of training had not officially started yet, but most of the tributes were milling around the room, checking out the stations and talking with their partners. Isla and Isadora were standing by the weapons station in deep discussion. Even though they weren't paying him any attention, he shifted uncomfortably. Ever since Isla had suggested an alliance, he'd been thinking about it non-stop. He hadn't really known Isla during their time in the Academy, just barely recognized her face, so he didn't know how skilled she was, but Isadora concerned him. The Careers from Two were usually brutal and the redhead had a slightly crazed look to her that wouldn't bode well for anyone she came across in the arena. From first impressions, it seemed that Isla and Isadora were the pair to beat. None of the other Careers had strong partners. Unless one of the pairs from the outer districts had something up their sleeve, Isla and Isadora had everyone beat with physical capabilities alone.

When Isla offered him an alliance on the first night he knew it was risky, so he decided to wait to see who her partner was before making any decisions. He didn't know her motives for wanting an alliance so badly - maybe she just wanted someone to watch her back in case she had a weak partner? But since that wasn't the case, he didn't know what she would be getting out of the alliance. Either way, having Isadora and Isla on his side would be smart. Aenon was strong and capable, but there was no way he'd be able to take on both of them at the same time.

He'd made his decision. He wanted an alliance with them, even if it only lasted a couple days. Calliar probably wouldn't agree, but she didn't have much of a choice, did she? He caught Isla's eye and she tilted her head, sending him a questioning look.

Isadora's back was to him, but Isla's curious gaze followed him as he made his way over to them. "I accept your offer of alliance."

He tried not flinch when Isadora whipped around suddenly, her red pony tail flying behind her. "Who said anything about an alliance?" She snarled at him. Her nasty tone suggested she was angry, but her eyes were shining with excitement.

"I did." Isla spoke up, sounding almost as if she thought the situation was humorous. "Isadora, meet Aenon, my district partner."

Isadora stuck out her hand. He eyed it cautiously, wondering if she would grab it and flip him over her shoulder or something. Reluctantly, he took hold of it, squeezing back harder than necessary when she tried to crush his fingers with her grip.

"I think we would be better off together," He started, mostly addressing Isadora, but she was looking past him.

"Who's your partner?" She cut him off mid-sentence, looking around at the tributes that were beginning to gather by the head trainer. He hesitated for a second before jutting out his chin to point to Callier.

"The Twelve girl."

Isadora regarded her with curious eyes, looking unusually pleased at the sour expression on Calliar's face. "Hmm…alright. We'll see." She answered noncommittedly before flouncing off toward the group of tributes. Aenon turned to Isla with an exasperated expression, but his dark-haired district partner just shrugged and followed Isadora with an amused smirk still on her lips.

Aenon reluctantly joined the other tributes and was the last one to make his way over, earning himself a nasty glare from the head trainer as she began to explain the different stations available and the rules.

"Lastly, no fighting with other tributes. Sparring is only acceptable with a trainer or with your Partner. If you are seen fighting, action will be taken immediately. Training has now begun."

The head trainer steps aside, keeping a watchful eye over everyone as the tributes began to disperse. Most of the Careers made their way over to the weapon stations while the younger tributes flooded the survival stations. A few were still huddled in the center of the room, too hesitant to approach any of the stations.

Aenon made his way over to the spears without bothering to see where Calliar was. Jakob, the boy from Two, was slashing away at a dummy with a long sword. When Aenon eyed him slightly, the Career glared and slashed harder at the dummy. Even though Aenon wasn't interested, the boy made it clear that there would be no Career pack this year.

He grabbed a spear off a rack, turning it over in his hands as he judged its weight. Taking a deep breath, he held the spear high and threw it towards a dummy. It hit the dummy square in the chest, the force of his throw causing the tip of the spear to poke through its back. He released the breath he had been holding in a rush of relief, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants as he glanced around the room. A few of the tributes were looking at him, horrified, probably imagining that would be them in a few days' time.

His hands were shaking, causing him to look down at them and grimace. For some reason, he was nervous. He wasn't the strongest Career here, that would probably be Jakob, but Aenon didn't want to come across as weak. Not only did his life depend on it, but both his sister's and Calliar's did too. Of course, if it were up to him he wouldn't have to deal with Calliar at all, but he didn't have a choice so he would have to suck it up.

If this were a normal year, Aenon would hold back during training, doing enough to show his strength to the Career pack but not make himself the prime target. Because of the twist, he had to worry about the perception of his partner too, and he didn't want anyone thinking they could pick her off easily and get rid of him in the process. He had to do his best to show all of his skill so no one would dare try to go after Calliar as long as he was there. It wasn't the best plan, but if Isadora didn't agree to the alliance, he would have to look after himself and Calliar on his own.

His thoughts reminded him that Calliar actually did exist, and he looked around the room to see what she was up to. To his surprise, she was by a punching bag, swinging with immense force and such hatred in her eyes that he was a bit hesitant about approaching her.

She saw him coming out of the corner of her eye and stopped abruptly, letting her hands fall down to her sides. "Finally decided to join me?" Calliar was slightly out of breath, but it was still easy to detect her unfriendly tone.

"If I had a choice I wouldn't be here at all." He retorted, his calm demeanor harder to keep than usual. Calliar had a short fuse, that was obvious to anyone who had ever conversed with her, but Aenon prided himself on being harder to instigate. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do to stop the wave off irritation that passed over him when he was around her.

Calliar looked at him incredulously, her face looking younger as the anger left her face for a split second. "But you did have a choice! You volunteered!" Her moment of surprise was gone and anger flooded her features, more apparent that before. "Some of us actually didn't have a choice."

He stepped closer to her, feeling his own anger rise up. The anger that he felt at the Capitol for creating the Games, the anger that he felt at Calliar for making his choice to volunteer sound so simple, and the anger that he felt at himself for being in this situation in the first place seemed to hit him out of nowhere. "So what if I volunteered? I wouldn't have if I didn't have to."

"But you didn't _have_ to. Whatever your reason, you weren't forced. You chose it. You _wanted_ to." She balled her hands into fists, stepping close to him. If they were the same height, they would have been nose to nose, but she was half a foot shorter than him. He was looking down at her, really meeting her eyes for the first time. Her immaturity portrayed her true age of fifteen, but if it weren't for that, he would have thought she were older. Her eyes were hard as steel and determined, but it was the look of immense distrust in her gaze that made him want to step away. Although he didn't want to push her further, it felt good to release the emotions that had built up inside him over the past few days.

"I did what I had to do for someone that I really care about. But you wouldn't understand that, would you?" His tone was nasty, and he almost regretted it.

She stiffened and took a step back. "You don't know me." Her voice wavered a bit, but she collected herself within seconds and crossed her arms. They glared at each other for over ten seconds before she gritted her teeth and nodded her head toward the mat next to them.

"You know what, let's spar." Her eyes taunted him, daring him to say no.

If he was being honest with himself, he would have admitted that Calliar wasn't as weak as he thought, but he wasn't. Instead, her rashness seemed to rub off him and he smirked. "You won't last a minute."

They squared off on the mat, bodies tense as they glared at each other. Aenon tried to relax himself a bit, not wanting to hurt her. She was still his partner, after all, and it wouldn't bode well for him if she were injured in the arena. While he was still debating this, Calliar lunged toward him aggressively, her fist connecting with his jaw. His head snapped back and he stumbled.

"What the hell?" He pushed her back roughly as she swung at him again.

"They didn't teach you how to fight in Four?" She taunted, clearly pleased with herself.

Fire flared up inside him again and he lashed out at her with his fist. She managed to block him, but she was still sent stumbling backward by his force. Seconds later she was swinging at him again, making him have to jump sideways to avoid getting hit by her fist a second time. Aenon hadn't expected her to be offensive. In fact, he hadn't expected her to be able to fight at all, and a small part of him was pleased that she would be able to hold her own ground in the arena. He didn't know what kind of trouble she got herself into back in Twelve, but it was clear that she was no amateur at hand to hand combat.

Although she managed to get a few more hits on him, her form was sloppy and in the end, he emerged victorious, knocking her to the ground and pinning her underneath him. He looked down at her, breathing heavily. "I win." He gloated, smirking as she glared up at him.

She stopped struggling and he let his body relax a bit. Calliar was smirking back at him, causing his eyes to narrow. Why was she smiling? He had just beaten her, finally gotten her to shut up, so why was she happy?

Calliar shifted suddenly beneath him, bringing her knee forcefully up between his legs and causing him to shout. The next thing he knew he was rolling off of her in pain and they switched positions, her looking down at him with a wide, arrogant grin on her face. Her long hair was falling down into his face and he turned his head away, groaning in pain. When it was clear that he wasn't going to fight back, Calliar got off of him and stood up, watching him with a gleeful expression.

He lay on his back, staring at the high ceiling with a blank expression as the pain between his legs began to dissipate. The anger that he had let build up had left him in a rush, making him feel completely empty on the inside. It was then that he realized why he was truly angry. It wasn't the Capitol's fault, or Calliar's, or even his sister's. It was his, and only his. Calliar was right. He had a choice, and he chose to volunteer. No matter what his reasoning was, he still chose this. He didn't have a right to be nervous, upset, or even scared. He knew what he was getting into when he made the decision, and he would have to live or die with it.

Aenon sat up, letting his resignation settle heavy in his stomach. He glared up at Calliar, but he couldn't find it in him to put real spite into his words. "That wasn't fair."

"Of course it wasn't." She let out a laugh, sounding strangely harsh as if she hadn't done it in a while. "But do you expect another tribute to just give up once you've 'won' and let you stick a spear into their chest? You need to learn how to fight dirty."

Calliar stood with her arms crossed, not bothering to reach out a hand to help him as he pulled himself off the ground. It wasn't as if he would have accepted it, anyway. When he didn't say anything right away, she continued. "Fortunately for you, I know a thing or two about fighting dirty."

He mirrored her expression and crossed his arms. For the first time, he regarded Calliar as an actual competitor, and not just a younger tribute that he would have to watch out for and protect. Her shoulders were broad and her arms were toned; Aenon wondered why he hadn't picked up on that before and realized that she was different than the usual scrawny tributes from Twelve, but he had let his resentment cloud his judgement. She wasn't a bad fighter, but she lacked the formal training and knowledge that Aenon had.

"Your form is extremely sloppy and I can tell what move you're going to make every time before you strike."

His partner glowered at him as he knocked her down a peg, but she didn't retaliate. Aenon pressed on, feeling a bit smug as he threw her own words back at her. "Fortunately for you, I know a thing or two about that."

They regarded each other in silence, both refusing to be the one to break eye contact. Finally, Calliar relented, glancing at the ground and shifting her stance awkwardly. "Fine. You help me, I help you."

He nodded curtly, wondering if they would just end up hurting rather than helping each other, but he didn't argue. He wanted to tell her about his plans to ally with Isadora and Isla, but he didn't want to break the temporary peace between them. They would never trust each other, and they might never be friends, but hopefully they could work together long enough to get out of the arena alive.

 **Chapter Question: Which pair do you think will be the first to go?**


	16. Training Day 1 Pt 2 - Adrienne Villiers

**A/N: Here we see more from Adrienne, as well as where she currently stands with Charity.**

 **If you're wondering how many chapters before the games, its going to be around ten more. Four more for training days one/two, three for the third training day and private sessions, and three for the interviews. Plus maybe another chapter so we can see where my babies Juliet and Luke are at. I know these chapters aren't as exciting as the Games, but please stick with me as I start to lay the groundwork for these characters!**

 **Thanks to my reviewers y'all rock once again.**

Adrienne Villiers, 18, District One

"Which weapon do you like to use?" The younger girl stood beside her, wide eyed as she took in all of the Capitol's gleaming and sharp weaponry. Adrienne pointed to the double-bladed sword in the corner, itching to get her hands on it but not wanting to scare her partner. Charity was only thirteen and was pretty tiny. Adrienne wished that she would have gotten paired with some stronger, like Everest or another Career, but at least having Charity with her would mean that one less younger tribute would have to die in order for her to win.

"Are…are you really good?" Charity questioned her timidly, still keeping her eyes locked on the weapon.

"Well, let's just say that if you weren't my partner, then I could slice you in half." Adrienne tried a smile, looking down at the younger girl, but Charity looked up at her horrified and backed away slightly.

"I'm going to work at the station over there." Charity squeaked and all but sprinted away, joining another younger tribute by the survival stations.

Adrienne's smile turned into a frown. She was _trying_ , but her partner seemed terrified of her. The fact that she was trained and volunteered for the games probably didn't help her case, and Adrienne was absolutely horrible with kids. She never had any siblings, so she had no idea how she was supposed to act around a thirteen-year-old. Charity seemed really nervous about being paired with her so Adrienne wanted her to be more comfortable, but her sense of humor was only making matters worse. She wished she was paired with someone older that she wouldn't have to baby- she wasn't a very warm and fuzzy person.

Sighing, she made her way over to the weapons station, delicately running her fingers along the hands of the knives the lined the walls. She began to reach for the double-bladed sword but quickly pulled her hand back, looking around. Though they weren't standing together, both of the Careers from Two were staring straight at her, watching to see which weapon she picked up. There would be no Career pack this year, that much was obvious, so Adrienne decided against picking up her sword. The other Careers wouldn't be on her side, and if they knew which weapon she favored, they wouldn't make it easy for her to get one in the arena. She gave a polite nod to tributes from Two, earning a scowl from the boy and a smirk from the redhead. With one last longing look at the beautiful sword that hung on the wall, she left the weapons behind and headed toward the survival stations.

Charity was hard at work at the knot-tying station, scrunching her face up in concentration as she looped rope and wire around a piece of wood, creating what looked like a snare. Adrienne crouched down beside her, examining her work.

"Is that a snare?" She tilted her head to the side, taking in all the different materials Charity had laid out in front of her. The other girl snapped her head to the side, Adrienne's presence making the flighty girl jump.

"Yeah." She nodded, continuing to work on her knot, tiny hands shaking slightly. Adrienne studied it for a moment with sharp eyes.

"Have you done this before?" She questioned, looking at the decent snare that Charity had managed to create. The chocolate-skinned girl kept working, but her eyes continued to flit to Adrienne every few seconds.

"Yeah." Charity seemed as if she didn't want to offer any more information, but Adrienne's gaze boring into the side of her head caused her explanation to tumble out in a rush of words. "We made these a lot in my district to protect the harvest. And I know a lot of survival stuff since my dad tried to train me, 'cause his brother died in the Games, I think. He tried to teach me weapons, but that didn't go to well." She blushed, fumbling with the rope in her hands.

This was the most Charity had said to Adrienne, and it seemed like she only shared because she was afraid Adrienne would yell at her. The blonde leaned back, noticing how Charity's shoulder's relaxed as Adrienne moved away.

"Well, that's okay. I don't know much about survival skills, so I'd say we make a good pair." She offered a smile again, and this time Charity returned it with a tiny one of her own. Adrienne's statement wasn't true – they had taught them survival skills in the arena – but she knew that Charity would be more confident if she felt as if she would be helpful. Plus, there was a good chance that she actually did know more than Adrienne.

They sat side by side for another hour, Adrienne watching as Charity tried out all different kinds of knots and traps. When the bell rang for lunch, Adrienne stood up feeling quite light-hearted as Charity didn't flinch away from her.

Charity had gotten in line quicker than Adrienne, already sitting at a table while Adrienne waited for her food. By the time she reached her, another tribute had already sat themselves down across from her partner. The tiny twelve-year old from Six was chatting away and Charity had a smile on her face, a more genuine one than she had ever given Adrienne.

Her tray clattered loudly as she placed it next to Charity, causing both the young girls to flinch at the noise. Unlike Charity, the Six girl continued to beam as she directed her attention toward Adrienne.

"Hi, I'm Paris!"

Adrienne nodded in response, but her heart was sinking and her light-hearted mood was evaporating quickly. Any progress she had made with Charity seemed have just gone out the window in the presence of Six, who would have been a much better partner for Charity than Adrienne was. It seemed like no matter what she did, her partner was uncomfortable being around her. She supposed it wasn't easy for any of the pairs, except for the two lucky ones from the same district, but that didn't make her feel any better. She had gone out of her way to make Charity comfortable, but it seemed like a waste of time. Adrienne stabbed at the food on her plate and a terrible image of her mother flashed into her head, reminding her how un-lady she was being. She softened her grip on the fork, contorting her face back into it's cool and impassive mask. All that smiling had exhausted her, and it would be much easier to just treat Charity respectfully rather than overly-friendly.

Her partner wasn't even paying her much attention, focusing on Paris as the young girl launched into a story about one of her friends from home. Adrienne looked around the room, wondering who Paris' partner was. She knew it wasn't one of the Careers, but a lot of the tributes in the outer districts seemed to blend together and she couldn't remember who was who. A pale boy with light hair and eyes sat down next to Paris, followed by a darker girl with a toothy smile and a number seven on her chest.

Adrienne stayed silent as they sat at the table, cautiously noting the girl from Seven when her almond eyes lingered on her for a bit too long. Charity grinned at them shyly as Paris grew excited at the presence of the blonde boy.

"Is he your partner?" Charity asked Paris shyly, nodding to the boy. Adrienne knew they weren't, as the big Six on his training suit signaled he was her district partner, and the only pairing of district partners was the District Eight duo.

Paris shook her head, frowning slightly. "No, Alvy is." She pointed at a boy around fourteen or fifteen who was making his way over the table. He was wearing a moody expression and although he looked extremely unhappy, Adrienne didn't blame him. They were preparing for the Hunger Games and his life had been tethered to a tiny, talkative twelve-year-old. When Alvy saw their attention on him he scowled deeply and turned away, dropping his tray loudly at an empty table in the corner and turning so his back was to them.

The tributes at Adrienne's table stared at Alvy for a few moments before turning their attention back to Paris. Adrienne looked around the table as the group conversed, finding it kind of stupid how they discussed trivial things, like the differences between their districts. She would have liked nothing better than to be sitting at an empty table with Charity, discussing their strategy for the arena, but Charity was taking part in the conversation with wide and curious eyes. Adrienne felt out of place. Even the older girl from seven, who seemed to be around Adrienne's age, was contributing to the conversation with an overly-chipper attitude that had Adrienne studying her closely.

She was the one who had freaked out at the Reaping. It seemed that she had gotten her anger in check, but there was also something slightly off to her extremely friendly attitude. The girl seemed to sense Adrienne watching her and turned toward her with a sly grin.

"I never introduced myself. I'm Cleo, District Seven." Her two front teeth were slightly longer than rest. Adrienne hadn't noticed it until the girl started talking, but it gave her a quirky look that set her even further apart from her partner, the pale blonde who just seemed…average.

Adrienne nodded back politely, but didn't want to make conversation. "Adrienne, District One." She backed her chair out and stood up gracefully, making sure to straighten her shoulders and hold her head high as she exited the cafeteria. Only a few tributes were back in the training area, but Adrienne hadn't wanted to stay with that group longer than possible. She had her fingers crossed that Charity would soon realize that she would be better off spending her time with Adrienne, preparing for the arena. For now, the thirteen-year-old seemed set on making friends with people who have to die if she wanted to live. Adrienne didn't want any allies. They wouldn't have the time, energy, or resources to waste on people who would need to die.

Everest was among the few tributes who had left the cafeteria early. From what she had seen, he had been doing everything he could to keep his distance from his partner, a skinny boy from Twelve who had a knack for complaining loudly enough for everyone to hear. While he was avoiding his partner, Adrienne had been trying to stick closer to hers, but it wasn't working.

He caught her eyes and nodded, acknowledging her with a grin. She gave a polite smile in return but looked away quickly, a small part of her heart aching. It took her a few minutes to understand why.

She was missing Royce, her best friend and only confident. If he were here, he would be able to tell her exactly what she should do with Charity, but he was back in District One, probably training someone else who would take her current place as tribute in the upcoming years. All her life, she had wanted to be her own person and finally make her own decisions, yet here she was, faced with a million different options, and she was looking for someone else to tell her what to do.

With a new-found determination, she made her way over to the archery station, wanting to practice weaponry without showing her true strengths. She could only hope that she wasn't in over her head.

 **Chapter Question: Which pair so far do you like better, Aenon and Calliar or Adrienne and Charity?**


	17. Training Day 1 Pt 3 - Isadora Juno

**A/N: I'm SO sorry for how long it took me to update! I was already busy as it was, so I hadn't been able to write very much of Isadora's POV, but then I decided to go on a last minute beach trip. Between that and getting my things ready to move back to college, I've been all over the place and haven't had a chance to sit down and finish this.**

 **Obviously, I finally did. Like I said before, updates are going to be a lot slower now that classes are starting, but I will finish this SYOT! If you're ever wondering when I'll be updating, I'm going to start posting estimated arrival dates on my profile, so you can go check that out. If there's ever a time that I won't be updating for a while, there will be a notice posted on my profile!**

 **Here's Isadora's second POV! I hope you guys missed her, because I sure did. Here's a first glimpse into the relationship between Isla and Isadora!**

Isadora Juno, 17, District Two

"Yes, I did train back in Four." Isla answered her question with almost an exasperated look, which continued to fuel the fire inside Isadora. She wanted to make sure she knew exactly who her partner was and what she could do, but Isla seemed like she was getting tired of her constant questions.

That was good- maybe Isla would finally snap. At least then she would be interesting. Looking around at the other tributes, it was clear that Isadora had one of the most capable partners. They were easily the strongest pair, which Isadora was happy about, but a big part of her wished that she got someone more _fun_. The scowling girl from Twelve, the girl from Seven who threw a tantrum during her Reaping, or even the sour-faced boy from Three, would all have been more interesting. Unfortunately, she was stuck with Isla, but at least she could handle a weapon. Or, so she said.

"Are you sure?" Isadora questioned again, purposely pressing the girl's buttons. She looked her up and down for good measure, taking in her appearance and smirking slightly as Isla's pretty face contorted into an ugly frown.

"Yes. What are you trying to imply?" Her tone was biting, and Isadora refrained herself from bouncing gleefully when she realized she had hit a nerve.

Deciding there would be plenty of time for irritating Isla later, Isadora put an end to the conversation with a smirk. "Nothing, nothing."

Isla's tense stance relaxed as her eyes followed something behind Isadora's head, sparkling with curiosity. A voice behind her would have made her jump, if she were a normal tribute. But she wasn't easily spooked.

"I accept your offer of alliance." Isla's district partner was hovering behind them, his low voice terse and reluctant. Isadora spun around instantly, narrowing her gaze at the handsome boy. His expression was confident, but his eyes looked strangely worried, and Isadora almost laughed. This would be fun.

"Who said anything about an alliance?" She put spite in her words, feeling gleeful as she watched the boy's expression twitch. She was hoping to see him stutter or fire back with nasty line of his own, but Isla saved him from the certain destruction that was arguing with Isadora.

"I did." Isla cut in with her infuriating calmness, bordering on amusement. "Isadora, meet Aenon, my district partner."

Isadora was somewhat interested. She didn't really care if they had allies, as she wasn't in the Games to make friends, but maybe they would keep her entertained in the arena. She stuck out her hand to shake Aenon's, squeezing tightly. He started talking, saying some bullshit about why they should be allies, but she was more interested in who his partner was. Isadora glanced around at the other tributes, trying to see if she could remember who he had been paired with.

"The Twelve girl." Aenon answered Isadora's question, sounding quite grumpy and reluctant.

She remained silent for a moment, looking at the broad-shouldered girl. "Hmm…alright. We'll see." Isadora smirked, turning away from Aenon and Isla to join the other tributes. She already decided that they would be allies, as soon as he had identified his partner, but she wasn't going give up an opportunity to mess with him. She didn't really care about Aenon, but she was definitely interested in his partner. The girl from Twelve had already caught her eye earlier, and Isadora knew that she would be _so_ much fun to argue with in the arena. And when she was finished with them, it wouldn't be too difficult to shut her up with a quick knife to the throat. After all, Isadora always had to have the last word.

She waited patiently as the head trainer explained the stations, but she already knew exactly where she was going. When they were dismissed she pranced eagerly over to the weapons station, ready to show everyone what she was capable of. There was no point in hiding anything-everyone knew she was trained, it was obvious, so she might as well show them exactly what they should be afraid of.

Grabbing a shining, silver mace from off the wall of weapons, Isadora began to slice at the nearest dummy. Isla, who was lurking behind her, took a sudden step back, apparently surprised at Isadora's sudden viciousness. When Isadora was satisfied, she took a step back, examining her work. Running her fingers across the deep gashes she made, she took note of every slice. It wasn't her best work – it never was – but it was good enough to have even Isla staring with wide eyes.

"What, you've never seen anyone use a mace before?" Isadora snorted at Isla's expression. A smirk made its way onto her face, realizing the perfect opportunity to dig her way further under her partner's skin. "I guess you aren't trained, after all."

"I am!" Isla exclaimed, looking mildly annoyed, but not nearly enough for Isadora's liking.

"Prove it." Isadora shot back, hoping to infuriate Isla more by shrugging casually. Isla reached out a hand as if she were going to grab a sword of the shelf, but jerked it back awkwardly.

"I…I don't think it's a good idea to show our strengths so soon." She bit her lip nervously, looking around at the other tributes. "We need to start thinking strategically. We're going to be main targets since we're the only pair of careers."

Isla might have been saying something intelligent, but she also could have been saying nonsense for all Isadora cared. She wasn't interested in discussing strategy, they still had days for that. Isadora just wanted a good, satisfying argument.

"Stop changing the subject." She rolled her icy blue eyes, meeting Isla's amber ones head on. "If you keep refusing to show me your skills, I have no choice but to think that you have no idea how to handle a weapon."

"Isadora, cut it out. I know how to use weapons." She hissed back, her muscles tensing as she furrowed her brow. Isadora was so close, she just had to push a little further…

"Not as good as me, though," Isadora continued on with an airy tone, acting as if they were having a light-hearted conversation. When Isla's eyes began to narrow darkly, she knew she was on the right path. "It's a good thing you've got me as a partner, really. I'm the better tribute, so lucky for you, I can keep you alive."

Isla's face transformed from its mild, pretty expression to one that was dark, dangerous, and delightful.

"Say anything you want, but _never_ say that you're better than me. Compared to me, you're about as dumb as a brick. _You're_ lucky that _I'm_ keeping you alive. Without me, you're just another arrogant, stupid career who can't tell their fingers from their toes."

Isadora squealed in delight, ecstatic to have broken the pretty princess's perfect composure. Isla was so calm and seemingly kind, but Isadora was able to see the cruelty underneath with only a few simple, well placed sentences. She figured that it wasn't an easy feat for most people, and it felt amazing to be the one to have accomplished it. She would love nothing more than to see how far she could push Isla, but the dark-haired girl was already storming off, her long ponytail swishing behind her.

She put back the mace with a loud clang, catching the eye of a tiny boy across the room. He looked at her, horrified. If it wasn't the sliced-up dummy beside her, it was probably the fact that she was grinning like a maniac after the exchange with her partner.

Now that she had accomplished what she set out to do, it was time for her to actually focus on training. She had been using weapons and training in combat all her life, so maybe it was time to do something else. Three days of working with her mace was nothing to compare to the eight years she had already spent practicing. It wasn't worth wasting her time. Isadora knew she wasn't dumb, as Isla had implied, but it would only make her better if she spent a bit of time at each survival station, learning a few things that may help her if she can't slice her way through the arena.

As she walked over to the edible plants station, Isadora briefly wondered if her father would approve. Everything she did to make herself a better tribute and contender just never seemed to be enough for him. Would he be disappointed that she wasn't perfecting her weaponry skills? Probably, but it didn't matter, because it would never be good enough for him anyway. At least he wasn't here to look down on her with his silent, disapproving frown.

When she reached the station, two younger tributes were in the middle of sorting poisonous plants. They both looked up when they saw her coming and scampered, leaving their piles unattended and causing a loud sigh from the trainer watching. Isadora was glad she had already left such an impression on the young ones.

It took her quite a few tries, but she finally was able to tell one plant apart from the other. It was frustrating, but she had refused to quit until she had gotten each one right. While she was glad to be done, she was also angry with herself for taking so long. She was a career and had spent all her life training, so how was she so easily defeated by a few leaves and berries?

If her father were here, he would probably call her a disgrace to the family. But he wouldn't disown her just yet. She was still his last chance for a victor in the family.

Her gaze was drawn to a pair arguing in the corner of the large room, and to Isadora's delight it was Isla's district partner and the younger girl he had been tied to. She watched as they spoke angrily to each other, trying to decide on what Twelve's story was. The girl was quick to anger and just seemed extremely bitter about life, so Isadora decided that she must have been an orphan. To make it even more interesting, the girl was probably adopted and raised by a really rich family, and liked to pretend that she was poor just because she could. Maybe she was an aspiring actress, so she challenged herself to live on the streets and act like one of those starving Twelve kids?

 _Man, method actresses were crazy._

The girl landed a strong hit to Aenon's jaw. She would be the perfect ally for Isadora – strong and argumentative, and hopefully more of a challenge to fight with than Isla. It was a shame she would have to kill her, but Isadora was sure to find someone else to bother once she became a victor.

The head trainer signaled that it was time for lunch and Isadora finally left the survival station. Isla was waiting by the door, eyeing each tribute as they passed with a cool expression on her face. Isadora could tell by her angry eyes that she wasn't completely over their spat, but the girl was smart enough to realize that she had let herself be broken down by Isadora.

As if trying to prove that she wasn't going to let it happen again, she straightened up and fell into step beside Isadora as they entered the cafeteria. With a polite smile and nod, Isla began to talk strategy and point out other tributes she had observed. Feeling merciful, Isadora let their past argument go and nodded along. But if she thought that was the end, Isla was in for a rude awakening.

 **Chapter Question: Would you guys rather see three, longer POVs during the Games, OR four, slightly shorter POVS?**


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